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THE LIFE -BOAT SERIES. 


All Handsomely Illustrated. 


THE LIFE-BOAT. 

A Tale of the English Coast Heroes. By R. M. 
Ballantyne. 


THE CRUISE OF THE FROLIC. 

A Sea Story by William H. G. Kingston. 


THE YOUNG MIDDY. 

Or the Perilous Adventures of a Boy Officer. 


ANTONY WAYMOUTH. 

Or the Gentleman Adventurers. By William H. 
G. Kingston. 


DICK ONSLOW. 

Adventures among the Red Skins. By William 
H. G. Kingston. 


LEE AND SHEPARD, Publishers, 


BOSTON. 








THE LIFEBOAT: 


A TALE OF OUR COAST HEROES- 


BI 

K. M. BALLANTYNE, 

»| 

40THOK OF “GASCOYNE,” “THE WILD MAN O* TUB WEST," 
“ THE COEAL ISLAND," ETC. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. 



BOSTON: 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 

NEW YORK : CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 

zest 










THE LIFEBOAT 



t CHAPTER I. 

There existed, not many years ago, a certain street 
near the banks of old Father Thames, which may be 
described as being one of the most mode®* and retiring 
little streets in London. 

The neighborhood around that street was empnatically 
dirty and noisy. There were powerful smells of tallow 
and tar in the atmosphere, suggestive of shipping and 
commerce. Narrow lanes opened off the main street, af- 
fording access to wharves and warehouses, and present- 
ing at their termini segmentary views of ships’ hulls, 
bowsprits, and booms, with a background of muddy 
water and smoke. There were courts with unglazed 
windows resembling doors, and massive cranes clinging 
to the walls. There were yards full of casks and bar- 
rels, and great anchors and chains, which invaded the 
mud of the river as far as was consistent with safety ; 
and adventurous little warehouses, which stood on piles, 
up to the knees, as it were, in water, totally regardless 
of appearances, and utterly indifferent as to catching 
cold. As regards the population of this locality, rats 
1 


2 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


were, perhaps, in excess of human beings ; and it might 
have been observed that the former were particularly 
frolicsome and fearless. 

Farther back, on the landward side of our unobtrusive 
street, commercial and nautical elements were more 
mingled with things appertaining to domestic life. Ele- 
phantine horses, addicted to good living, drew through 
the narrow streets wagons and vans so ponderous and 
gigantic that they seemed to crush the very stones over 
which they rolled, and ran terrible risk of sweeping 
little children out of the upper windows of the houses. 
In unfavorable contrast with these, donkeys, of the most 
meagre and starved aspect, staggered along with cart- 
loads of fusty vegetables and dirty-looking fish, while the 
venders thereof howled the nature and value of their 
wares with deliberate ferocity. Low pawnbrokers 
(chiefly in the u slop ” line) obtruded their seedy wares 
from doors and windows half way across the pavement, 
as if to tempt the naked ; and equally low pastry-cooks 
spread forth their stale viands in unglazed windows, as 
if to seduce the hungry. 

Here the population was mixed and varied. Busy 
men of business and of wealth, porters and wagoners, 
clerks and warehousemen, rubbed shoulders with poor, 
squalid creatures, men and women, whose business or 
calling no one knew, and few cared to know, except the 
policeman on the beat, who, with stern, suspicious glances, 
looked upon them as objects of special regard, and as 
enemies ; except, also, the earnest faced man, in seedy 
black garments, with a large Bible ( evidently ) in his 
pocket, who likewise looked on them as objects of special 
regard, and as friends. The rats were much more cir- 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


9 


cumspect in this locality. They were what the Yankees 
would call uncommonly “ cute,” and much too deeply 
intent on business to indulge in play. 

In the lanes, courts, and alleys that ran still farther 
back into the great hive, there was an amount of squalor, 
destitution, violence, sin, and misery, the depth of which 
was known only to the people who dwelt there, and to 
those earnest-faced men with Bibles, who made it their 
work to cultivate green spots in the midst of such un- 
promising wastes, and to foster the growth of those ten- 
der and beautiful flowers which sometimes spring and 
flourish where, to judge from appearances, one might be 
tempted to imagine nothing good could thrive. Here 
also there were rats, and cats too, besides dogs of many 
kinds ; but they all of them led hard lives of it, and few 
appeared to think much of enjoying themselves. Exist- 
ence seemed to be the height of their ambition. Even 
the kittens were depressed, and sometimes stopped in the 
midst of a faint attempt at play to look round with a 
scared aspect, as if the memory of kicks and blows was 
strong upon them. 

The whole neighborhood, in fact, teemed with sad yet 
interesting sights and scenes, and with strange, violent 
contrasts. It was not a spot which one would naturally 
select for a ramble on a summer evening after dinner ; 
nevertheless, it was a locality where time might have 
been profitably spent, where a good lesson or two might 
have been learned by those who have a tendency to u con- 
sider the poor.” 

But although the neighborhood was dirty and noisy, 
our modest street, which was at that time known by the 
name of Redwharf Lane, was comparatively clean and 


4 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


quiet. True, the smell of tallow and tar could not ba 
altogether excluded, neither could the noises ; but these 
scents and sounds reached it in a mitigated degree, and 
as the street was not a thoroughfare, few people entered 
it, except those who had business there, or those who had 
lost their way, or an occasional street boy of an explora- 
tive tendency ; which last, on finding that it was a quiet 
spot, invariably entered a protest against such an out- 
rageous idea as quietude in “ the city,” by sending up a 
series of hideous yells, and retiring thereafter precipi- 
tately. 

Here, in Redwharf Lane, was the office of the firm 
of Denham, Crumps, and Co. 

Mr. Denham stood with his back to the fire, for it was 
a coldish autumn day, with his coat-tails under his arms. 
He was a big, bald man of five and forty, with self-im- 
portance enough for a man of five hundred and forty. 
Mr. Crumps sat in a small back office, working so dili- 
gently that one might have supposed he was endeavoring 
to bring up the arrears of forty years’ neglect, and had 
pledged himself to have it done before dinner. He was 
particularly small, excessively thin, very humble, rather 
deaf, and upwards of sixty. Co. had died of lockjaw 
two years previous to the period of which we write, and 
is therefore unworthy of further notice. A confidential 
clerk had taken, and still retained, his place. 

Messrs. Denham, Crumps, and Co. were ship-owners. 
Report said that they were rich, but report frequently 
said what was not true in thoSe days. Whether it ha9 
become more truthful in the present days, remains an 
open question. There can be no question, however, that 
much business was done at the office in Redwharf Lane. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


5 


and that, while Denham lived in a handsome mansion in 
Russell Square, and Crumps dwelt in a sweet cottage in 
Kensington, Co. had kept a pony phaeton, and had died 
in a snug little villa on Hampstead Heath. 

The office of Denham, Crumps, and Co. was small and 
unpretending, as was the street in which it stood. There 
was a small green door with a small brass plate and a 
small brass knocker, all of which, when opened by their 
attendant, a small tiger in blue, with buttons, gave ad- 
mittance to a small passage that terminated in a small 
room. This was the outer office, and here sat the four 
clerks of the establishment on four tall stools, writing in 
four monstrous volumes, as furiously as if they were de- 
cayed authors whose lives depended on the result. Their 
salaries did, poor fellows, and that was much the same 
thing ! 

A glass door, with scratches here and there, through 
which the head of the firm could gaze unseen, separated 
“ the office ” from Denham’s room, and a 'wooden door 
separated that from Crumps’ room, beyond which there 
was a small closet or cell which had been Co.’s room be- 
fore that gentleman died. It was now used as a reposi- 
tory for ancient books and papers. 

“ Very odd,” said Mr. Denham, and as he said so he 
touched a small silver bell that stood on his writing- 
table. 

The tiger in blue and buttons instantly appeared. 

“ Here, Peekins, post these letters. Has no one 
called this afternoon? I mean, no one resembling a 
sailor ? ” 

The boy in blue started, and his face became very 
red. 


1 * 


6 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


M Why, what’s the matter, boy ? What do you mean 
by staring at me, instead of answering my question ? ” 

“ Please, sir,” stammered Peekins meekly, “ I didn’t 
mean no ’arm, sir, but you see, sir, his face was so 
drelful fierce, and he looked sich a wild — ” 

“ Boy, are you mad ? ” interrupted Mr. Denham, ad- 
vancing and seizing the tiger by his blue collar ; “ what 
are you talking about? Now, answer my question at 
once, else I’ll shake the little life you have out of your 
body. Did any sailor-like man call at the office this 
afternoon ? ” 

“ O, sir, yes, sir, — I — I — thought he was drunk, 
and wouldn’t let ’im in, sir ; he’s bin a standin’ stampin’ 
at the door for more than — ” 

The end of the sentence was cut short by Mr. Denham 
suddenly ejecting the boy from the room, and shouting, 
u Let him in ! ” 

In a few seconds a heavy tread was heard in the outer 
office, and the boy ushered in a tall young man, of unusu- 
ally large proportions, with extremely broad shoulders, 
and apparently about twenty-three years of age, whose 
rough pilot-coat, wide pantaloons, and glazed hat bespoke 
him a sailor. His countenance was flushed, and an angry 
frown contracted his brow as he strode into the room, 
pulled off his hat, and stood before the head of the house 
of Denham, Crumps, and Co. 

“ I beg pardon, sir,” began the sailor, somewhat 
sharply, yet without disrespect, “ when I am asked to 
come — ” 

“ Yes, yes, Bax,” interposed Mr. Denham, “ I know 
what you would say. Pray calm yourself. It is a pity 
you should have been kept waiting outside ; but the fact 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


7 


is, that my boy is a new one, and apparently he is desti- 
tute of common sense. Sit down. I sent for you to say 
that I wish you to take the ‘ Nancy* to Liverpool. You 
will be ready to start at once, no doubt — ” 

“ Before the schooner is overhauled?” inquired Bax, 
in surprise. 

“ Of course,” said Denham, stiffly ; “ I see no occa- 
sion for another overhaul. That schooner will cost us 
more than she is worth if we go on repairing at the rate 
we have been doing the last two years.” 

“ She needs it all, sir,” rejoined Bax, earnestly. “ The 
fact is, Mr. Denham, I feel it to be my duty to tell you 
that there ain’t a sound plank or timber in her from stem 
to stern, and I’m pretty sure that if she -costs you money, 
she’s likely to-cost me and the men aboard of her our 
lives.' I strongly advise you to strike her off the books, 
and get a new one.” 

“ Mr. Bax,” said Denham, pompously, “ you are too 
young a man to offer your advice unless it is asked. I 
believe the engineer employed by me to examine into the 
condition of my vessels is quite competent to judge in 
these matters, and I have unbounded confidence in him. 
When I placed you in command of the 4 Nancy,’ I meant 
you to navigate, not to criticise her ; but if you are afraid 
to venture — ” 

“Afraid!” cried the youug sailor, reddening. “Is 
anxiety about the lives of your men and the safety of 
your property to be called fear ? I am willing to sail in 
the 4 Nancy ’ as long as a plank of her will hold to her 
ribs, but — ” 

Bax paused and bit his lip, as if to keep back wordi 
which had better not be spoken. 


8 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


44 Well, then,” rejoined Mr. Denham, affecting to dis- 
regard the pause, 44 let me hear no more about repairs. 
When these require to be done, they shall be done. 
Meanwhile, go and make preparation to sail by the 
morning tide, which serves about — What hour, think 
you?” 

44 Flood at half after six,” said Bax, curtly. 

“ Very well, come up here at half past five ; one of 
the clerks will see you. You will have to run down to 
Dover in the first place, and when there my agent will 
give you further instructions. Good afternoon.” 

Bax rose and quitted the room with a stern 44 Good 
day, sir.” 

As he passed through the outer office he was arrested 
by one of the clerks laying a hand on his shoulder. 

44 Well, Mr. Foster,” said Bax, a bright smile chasing 
the frown from his face, 44 it seems we’re to -swim if we 
can, or sink if we can’t, this winter ; but what want ye 
with me?” 

“You are to call me Guy, not Mister Foster,” said the 
lad, gayly. 44 I want to know where you are to be found 
after six this evening.” 

44 At the 4 Three Jolly Tars,’ ” answered Bax, clapping 
on his glazed hat. 

44 All right ; I’ll look you up. Good day.” 

44 Guy Foster ! ” shouted Mr. Denham from the inner 
room. 

44 Yes, uncle ; ” and in another moment the youth was 
standing, pen in hand, in the august presence of his rela- 
tive, who regarded him with a cold stare of displeasure. 

There could scarcely have been conceived a stronger 
contrast in nature than that which existed between the 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


9 


starched, proud, and portly uncle, and the tall, handsome, 
and hearty young nephew, whose age was scarcely twen- 
ty years. 

44 How often am I to tell you, sir,” said Mr. Denham, 
“ that 1 yes, uncle/ is much too familiar and unbusiness- 
like a phrase to be used in this office in the hearing of 
your fellow-clerks ? ” 

44 I beg pardon, uncle ; I’m sure I had no intention 
of—” 

u There, that will do ; I want no apology ; I want obe- 
dience and attention to my expressed wishes. I suppose 
that you expect to get away for a few days’ holiday ? ” 

44 Well, unc-\ sir, I mean, if it is quite convenient I 
should — ” 

“It is not quite convenient,” interrupted the uncle. 
44 It cannot possibly, at any time, be convenient to dis- 
pense with the services of a clerk in a house where no 
supernumeraries are kept to talk slang and read the 
newspapers. I see no reason whatever in young men in 
ordinary health expecting, as a right, two or three weeks’ 
leave each year without deduction of salary. I never go 
to the country or to the sea-side from one year’s end to 
the other.” 

44 You’d be much the better for it if you did, uncle,” 
interposed Guy. 

“ That, sir,” retorted Denham with emphasis, 44 is your 
opinion, and you will allow me to say that it is errone- 
ous, as most of your opinions, I am sorry to find, are. 
I find that no change is necessary for my health. I am 
in better condition than many who go to Margate every 
summer. I thrive on town air, sir, and on city life.” 

There was much truth in these observations. The 


10 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Worthy merchant did indeed seem to enjoy robust health 
and there could be no question that, as far as physical 
appearances went, he did thrive on high living, foul air, 
and coining money. Tallow and tar sent forth delicious 
odors to him, and thick smoke was pleasant to his nos- 
trils, for he dealt largely in coal ; and all of these, with 
many kindred substances, were productive of the one 
great end and object of his life gold. 

“ However,” pursued Mr. Denham, leaning back on 
the mantel-piece, “ as the tyrannical customs of society 
cannot be altogether set at nought, I suppose I must let 
you go.” 

“ Thank you, unc — , sir,” said Guy, who, having been 
chained to the desk in the office of Redwharf Lane for 
the last eleven months, felt his young heart bounding 
wildly within him at the prospect of visiting, even for a 
brief period, his mother’s cottage on the coast of Kent. 

“You have no occasion to thank vie” retorted Mr. 
Denham ; “ you are indebted entirely to the tyrannical 
customs and expectations of society for the permis- 
sion. Good by ; you may convey my respects to your 
mother.” 

“ T will, sir.” 

u Have you anything further to say ? ” asked Mr. 
Denham, observing that the youth stood looking per- 
plexedly at the ground, and twirling his watch-key. 

“ Yes, uncle, I have,” answered Guy, plucking up cour- 
age. “The fact is — that is to say — you know that 
wrecks ^are very-commop off the coast of Kent.” 

“ Certainly, I. do,” said Denham, with a frown. “ I 
have bitten cause to know that. The loss occasioned by 
the wreck of the ‘ Sea-gull * last winter was very severe 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


11 


indeed. The subject is not a pleasant one ; have you 
any good reason for alluding to it ? ” 

“ I have, uncle. As you say, the loss of the ‘ Seagull * 
was severe ; for, besides the loss of a fine vessel and a 
rich cargo, there was the infinitely more terrible loss of 
the lives of twenty-two human beings.” 

As Mr. Denham had not happened to think of the loss 
of life that occurred on the- occasion, and had referred 
solely to the loss of ship and cargo, which, by a flagrant 
oversight on the part of one of his clerks, had not been 
insured, he made no rejoinder, and Guy, after a mo- 
ment’s pause, went on : — 

“ The effect of this calamity was so powerful on the 
minds of the people of Deal ancTWalmer, near which the 
wreck took place, that a public meeting was called, and a 
proposal made that a lifeboat should be established there.” 

“Well?” said Mr. Denham. 

“Well,” continued the youth, “ my mother gave a sub- 
scription ; but, being poor, she could not give much.” 

“ Well, well,” said Mr. Denham, impatiently. 

“And — and I gave a little, a very little, towards it 
too,” said Guy. 

“ Your salary is not large ; it was very foolish of you 
to waste your money in this way.” 

“ Waste it, uncle ! ” 

“Come, sir, what does all this tend to?” said Den- 
ham, sternly. 

“I thought — I hoped — indeed I felt assured,” said 
Guy, earnestly, “ that you would give something towards 
this good object — ” 

“ O, did you?” said the merchant, cutting him short ; 
“ then, sir, allow me to say that you were never more 


12 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


mistaken in your life. I never .give money in charity. 1 
believe it to be a false principle, which tends to the in- 
crease of beggars and criminals. You can go, now.” 

“ But consider, uncle,” entreated 'Guy,C“ this is no or- 
dinary charity. A lifeboat there might be the means of 
saving hundreds of lives ; and, O, if you could have seen, 
as I did, the despairing faces of these poor people, as 
they clung to the rigging, scarcely a stone’s cast from the 
shore, on which the waves beat so furiously that no boat 
except a lifeboat could have lived for a moment, — if you 
could have heard, as I did, the wild shriek of despair as 
the masts went by the board, and plunged every living 
soul into the raging sea, — I am certain that you would 
gladly give a hundred pounds or more towards this phil- 
anthropic object.” 

“ Nephew,” said Denham, “ I will not give a sixpence. 
Your inexperience and enthusiasm lead you astray, sir, 
in this matter. Lifeboats are capable of being upset, as 
well as ordinary boats ; and there are cases on record in 
which the crews of them have been drowned, as well as 
the people whom they recklessly went out to save. My 
opinion is, that persons who devote themselves to a sea- 
faring life must make up their minds to the chances and 
risks attending such a life. Now you have my answer. 
Good by, and give my best regards to my sister. I will 
expect you back next Saturday week.” 

“ I have still another favor to ask, sir,” said Guy, after 
some hesitation. 

“ Has it anything to do with what you are pleased to 
term a philanthropic object?” 

“ It has.” 

“ Then,” said Mr. Denham, “ save me the trouble of 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


18 


refusing, and yourself the. pain of a refusal, by holding 
your tongue, — and retiring.” 

Guy colored, and was about to turn away in disgust, 
but, repressing his^ indignation by a powerful effort, 
be advanced with a cheerful countenance, and held out 
his hand. 

“ Well, good by, uncle. If ever you go to the coast, 
and happen to see a storm and a shipwreck, you’ll change 
your mind, I think, in regard to this matter.” 

Mr. Denham did go to the coast, and did see a storm 
and a shipwreck ; but whether this prediction ever came 
true is a point that shall not be revealed at this part of 
our narrative. 


8 


CHAPTER n. 


The “ Three Jolly Tars ” was one of those low taverns 
where seamen were wont to congregate — not because it 
was a low tavern, but because there was no other sort 
of tavern — high or low — in that neighborhood. 

The world (that is to say, the delicately-nurtured and 
carefully-tended world) is apt to form erroneous opinions 
in regard to low taverns, and degradation, and sin in 
general, — arising from partial ignorance and absolute 
inexperience, which it is important that we should cor- 
rect, in order that the characters of our story may not be 
falsely judged. God forbid that it should be for a mo- 
ment supposed that we have a word to say in favor of 
low taverns. Our aim just now is, not to consider these, 
but to convince the reader, if possible, that every man 
who enters one of them is not necessarily a lost or ut- 
terly depraved creature. 

It is undoubtedly true that these low taverns are moral 
pigsties. Nay, we owe an apology to the pigs for the 
comparison. Sties appear to be places of abode suited 
to the nature and tastes of their occupants, and the 
grumps who inhabit them seem not only to rejoice in 
them (for this alone would be no argument, inasmuch as 
the same may be affirmed of men who rejoice in low 
taverns) , but to be utterly incapable of higher enjoyment 
out of them. Let a pig out of his sty, afford him 
every conceivable opportunity of intellectual and phys- 
ical improvement, and he will carefully search out the 

( 14 ) 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


15 


nearest mud-hole ■*»- unhappy until he finds it ; will thrust 
not only his nose, but his body, into it, and will find 
supreme enjoyment in wallowing in the mire ; and no 
blame to him for this, — he is grumpish by nature, 
Yes, a low tavern is beneath the level of a pigsty ! 

Nevertheless, ns it is possible that, for a time , man 
may, through sin or circumstances, or both, be reduced 
to such a condition as to take shelter in a pigsty, with- 
out exposing himself to the charge of being a pig, so it 
is possible that a man may frequent a low tavern, not 
without detriment, but without becoming thereby worthy 
of being classed with the lowest of the low. Do not 
misunderstand us, gentle reader. We do not wish in 
the slightest degree to palliate the coarse language, the 
debasement, the harsh villany, which shock the virtuous 
when visiting the haunts of poverty. Our simple desire 
is to assure the sceptical that goodness and truth are 
sometimes found in strange, questionable places, although 
it is undoubtedly true that they do not deliberately 
search out such places for an abode, but prefer a pure 
atmosphere and pleasant companionship if they can 
get it. 

It must not be supposed, then, that our friend John 
Bax — sometimes called captain,” sometimes “skip- 
per,” not unfrequently u mister,” but most commonly 
“ Bax,” without any modification — was a hopeless cast- 
away, because he was found by his friend Guy Foster in 
a room full of careless, foul-mouthed seamen, eating his 
bread and cheese, and drinking his beer, in an atmos- 
phere so impregnated with tobacco smoke that he could 
scarcely see, and so redolent of gin that he could scarcely 
smell the smoke ! 


16 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


In those days there were not so many sailors* homes 
and temperance coffee-houses as there are now. In the 
locality about which we write there were none. If Jack 
wanted his lunch or his dinner, he found the low tavern 
almost the only place in which he could get it comfort- 
ably. Tobacco smoke was no objection to him, — he 
rather liked it. Swearing did not shock him, — he was 
used to it. Gentlefolk are apt to err here too. Being 
shocked at gross sin does not necessarily imply goodness 
of heart ; it implies nothing more than the being unused 
to witness gross sin. Goodness of heart may go along 
with this capacity of being shocked ; so, equally, may 
badness of heart ; but neither of them is implied by it. 

What a grand thing is truth — simple, abstract truth ! 
and yet how little do we appreciate it in regard to the in- 
conceivably important matter of reasoning. We analyze 
our chemicals, and subject them to the severest tests, in 
order to ascertain their true properties ; — truth is all we 
aim at ; but how many of us can say that we analyze 
our thoughts, and subject our reasoning to the test of 
logic, in order simply to ascertain the truth ? 

u Smoke for ever ! I say, Bill, open that there port a 
bit, else we’ll be choked,” cried a stentorian voice, as 
Guy entered the little apartment, where some dozen of 
noisy sailors were creating the cloud, which was a little 
too strong for them. 

For some moments Guy glanced round inquiringly, 
unable to pierce the dim curtain that enshrouded every- 
thing, as with a veil of dirty gauze. 

“ Lost your reckoning, I guess,” drawled a Yankee 
skipper. 

“ Never mind ; let go your anchor, my lad,” cried a 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


t7 


voice from the densest quarter of the smoke ; “ it’s not a 
bad berth, and good holdin’ ground.” 

“ What’ll you take to drink, my boy, supposin’ you 
gits the offer?” inquired another man, giving him a 
facetious poke in the ribs. 

“ Is John Bax here?” inquired Guy. 

“ Hallo, messmate — here you are ; port your helm and 
heave ahead — steady ! rocks to leeward ; starboard 
hard ! ah, I knew you’d never clear these rocks without 
touchin’,” said Bax, as his young friend tripped over 
three or four spittoons, and plunged into the corner from 
which the sailor’s deep bass voice issued. u There now, 
sit down ; what’ll you have ? ” 

“ Nothing, Bax ; what a horrible hole to feed in ! 
Couldn’t you come out, and talk with me in the fresh 
air ? ” 

It must have, indeed, been a wonderfully impure place, 
when Guy could venture, by contrast, to speak of the air 
outside as being fresh. 

“ Couldn’t do it, my lad,” replied Bax, with his mouth 
full. u I haven’t had a bit since six o’clock this morn- 
ing, and I’m only half through.” 

The fact was evident, for a large plate of biscuit and 
cheese stood on the small table before the seaman, with 
a tumbler of hot gin and water. So Guy sat down, and, 
observing that the waiter stood at his elbow, ordered 
half a pint of stout. Guy did not drink spirits, but he 
had no objection to beer ; so he took occasion to remon- 
strate with Bax on his tendency to drink gin, and recom- 
mended beer instead, as it would “ do him more good.” 
It did not occur to Guy that a young man in robust 
health does not require physical good to be done to him 
2 * 


18 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


at. all, beyond what food, and rest, and exercise cau 
achieve ; and that, therefore, artificial stimulant of any 
kind is unnecessary ! 

M Skipper ahoy ! ” shouted a gruff voice in the door- 
way. 

“Ay, ay ! ” cried several of the party in reply. 

“ Is John Bax in this here port?” 

“ Here you are,” replied the man in request ; “ port 
your helm, old boy ! rocks on the lee bow ; look out ! ” 

“ Steady, so,” said a fat, burly seaman, as he steered 
in obedience to these sailing directions, and finally “ cast 
anchor ” beside our two friends. 

u How are ye, Captain Bluenose?” said Bax, holding 
out his hand. 

“ Same to you, lad,” replied the captain, seizing the 
offered hand in his own enormous fist, which was knotty 
and fleshy, seamed with old cuts and scars, and stained 
with tar. “ Hallo ! Guy, is this you? ” he added, turn- 
ing suddenly to the youth. “ Why, who’d ’a thought to 
see you here ? I do b’lieve I hain’t seen ye since the last 
time down at the coast. But, I say, Guy, my boy, you 
hain’t took to drinkin’, have ye?” 

“No, captain,” said Guy, with a smile, “nothing 
stronger than beer, and not much of that. I merely 
came here to meet Bax.” 

Captain Bluenose — whose name, by the way, had no 
reference to his nose, for that was small and red- — 
scratched his chin, and stared into vacancy, as if he were 
meditating. 

“ Why, boy,” he said at length, “ seems to me as if 
you’d as good cause to suspec* me of drinkin’, as I have 
to suspec’ you, ’cause we’re both here , d’ye see ? Hows- 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


19 


ever, I’ve been cruisin' after the same craft, an’ so we've 
met, d’ye see, an' that's nat’ral, so it is.” 

“ Well, and now you have found me, what d’ye want 
with me?” said Bax, finishing the bread and cheese, and 
applying to the gin and water. 

“ Shipmet, I’m goin’ home, and wants a berth a-board 
the Nancy,” said Bluenose. 

“ Couldn't do it, captain,” said Bax, shaking his head ; 
“ 'gainst rules.” 

“I'll go as a hextra hand — a suppernummerary,” 
urged the captain. 

“ Why, captain,” said Guy, “is it not strange that I 
should have come here to make the very same request? 
Come, Bax, you 're a good fellow, and will take us both. 
I will guarantee that my uncle will not find fault with 
you.” 

“Ah, that alters the case,” said Bax ; “ if you choose 
to take the responsibility on your own shoulders, Guy, 
you're welcome to the best berth a-board the old Nancy. 
D’ye know, I've a fondness for that old craft, though 
she is about as* unseaworthy ar schooner as sails out o' 
the port of London. You see, she's the only craft bigger 
than a deal lugger that I ever had command of. She's 
my first love, is the old Nancy, and I hope we won’t 
have to part for many a day.” 

“ Quite right, young man,” said Captain Bluenose, 
nodding his head approvingly, and filling his pipe from a 
supply of tobacco he always carried in the right pocket 
of his capacious blue waistcoat. The captain gazed 
with a look of grave solemnity in the manly countenance 
of the young sailor, for whom he entertained feelings of 
unbounded admiration. He had dandled Bax on his knee 


20 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


■when he was a baby, had taught him to make boats, and 
to swim and row when he became a boy, and had sailed 
with him many a time in the same lugger when they put 
off in wild storms to rescue lives or property from ships 
wrecked on the famous Goodwin Sands. 

“ Quite right, young man,” repeated the captain, as he 
lighted his pipe ; “your sentiments does you credit. W’en 
a man’s got his first love, d’ye see, an’ finds as how she’s 
all trim and ship-shape, and taut, and well ballasted, and 
all that sort o’ thing, stick to her to the last, through thick 
and thin. That’s wot I say, d’ye see ? There’s no two 
ways about it, for wot’s right can’t be wrong. If it can, 
show me how, and then I’ll knock under, but not be- 
fore.” 

“ Certainly not, captain,” cried Bax, laughing ; “ never 
give in — that’s my motto.” 

“There,” said Bluenose, gravely, “you’re wrong — 
’cause why ? you’re not right ; an’ w’en a man’s not right 
he ought always to give in.” 

“But how is a fellow to know when he’s right and when 
he’s wrong ? ” asked Bax. 

“ Con-sideration,” said Bluenose. 

“ Bravo ! captain,” cried Guy, with a laugh. “ If it be 
true that 4 brevity is the soul of wit,’ you must be the 
w’ttiest fellow on Deal beach.” 

“ I dun-know,” retorted the captain, slowly, “ whether 
it’s the soul or the body o’ wit, an* wot’s more, I don’t 
care ; but it’s a fact, d’ye see, that consideration ’ll do it ; 
leastwise, if consideration won’t, nothin’ will. See now, 
here it is (he became very earnest at this point) : 
w’en a thing puzzles people, wot does people do ? why, 
they begins right off to talk about it, an’ state their opin- 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


21 


ions afore they hain’t got no opinions to state. P’raps 
they takes the puzzler up by the middle, an’ talks wild 
about that part of it ; then they give a look at the end of 
it, an’ mayhap they’ll come back and glance at the be- 
ginnin’ ; mayhap they won’t ; and then they’ll tell you, as 
grave as owls, that they’ve made up their minds about it, 
and so nail their colors to the mast.” 

At this stage in the elucidation of this knotty point, 
Bluenose observed that his pipe was going out ; so he 
paused, pulled at it vigorously for a few seconds, and 
then resumed his discourse. 

“ Now, lads, wot ought you for to do w’en you’ve got 
hold of a puzzler ? Why, you ought to sot down and con- 
sider of it, which means you should begin at the begin- 
nin’ ; an’ let me tell you, it’s harder to find the beginnin’ 
of a puzzler than p’raps you suppose. Havin’ found the 
beginnin*, you should look at it well, and then go on 
lookin’, inch by inch, and fut by fut, till you comes to the 
end of it; then look it back, oncommon slow, to the 
beginnin’ again ; after which turn it outside in, or inside 
out, — it don’t much matter which way, — and go it all 
over once more ; after which cram yer knuckles into yer 
two eyes, an* sot for half an hour (or three quarters, if 
it’s tremendous deep) without movin’. If that don’t do, 
and you hain’t got time to try it over again, give in at 
once, an’ haul your colors down ; but on no occasion wot 
iver nail them to the mast, ’xceptin’ always w’en you’re 
cock-sure that you’re right, for then, of coorse, ye can’t 
go far wrong.” 

This little touch of philosophy convinced Bax that if 
he did not wish to sit there half the night, the sooner he 
changed the subject the better ; so he called the waiter, 


•22 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


and paid his bill, saying to his companions that it was 
time to go aboard if they wanted a snooze before tripping 
the anchor. 

“What have you had, sir?” said the waiter, turning 
to Bluenose. 

The man said this with a sneer, for he knew that the 
captain had taken nothing since he entered the house, and 
was aware, moreover, that he was a water-drinker. 

“ I’ve had nothin’,” replied the captain, “ nor don’t 
want any, thank ee.” 

“ 0, beg pardon, sir the waiter bowed, and retired 
impressively. 

“The house couldn’t keep goin’ long with some custom- 
ers,” stammered a rough-looking, half-tipsy fellow who 
had overheard these remarks. 

“ Might do something for the good of the house,” said 
another, who was equally drunk. 

“Who bade you put in your oar?” cried the first 
speaker fiercely, for he had reached that condition of in- 
toxication which is well known as the fighting stage. The 
other man was quite ready to humor him ; so, almost be- 
fore one could understand what had been said, a savage 
blow was given and returned, oaths and curses followed, 
and in two seconds one of the combatants had his oppo- 
nent by the throat, threw him on his back, with his neck 
over the fender, and his head thrust into the ashes. 

Instantly the room was a scene of wild confusion, as 
some of the friends of both men eudeavored to separate 
them, while others roared in drunken glee to “ let ’em 
have fair play, and fight it out.” 

The result of this quarrel might have been serious had 
not Bax thrust the yelling crowd aside, and, exerting to 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


23 


the utmost the extraordinary muscular power with which 
he had been endowed, tore the combatants asunder by 
main force, and hurled them violently to opposite sides 
of the room. 

“ Shame on you, lads,” said he ; u can you not drink 
your grog without quarrelling about nothing?” 

The towering size and the indignaut look of Bax, as 
he said this, were sufficient to quell the disturbance, al- 
though some of the more irascible spirits could not re- 
frain from grumbling about interference, and the Yankee 
roundly asserted that u before he’d go into a public, and 
sit down and smoke his pipe without doin’ somethin’ for 
the good o’ the ’ouse, he’d like to see himself chawed up 
pretty slick, he would.” 

“Waiter ahoy!” shouted Captain Bluenose, sternly, 
on hearing this. 

“ Yes-sir.” 

“ Bring me a tumbler o’ gin and a pot o’ cold water** 

“ Tum’ler-o’-gin-sir-an’-a-por-o’-col’wa’r, sir? Yes-sir.” 

The waiter stopped suddenly, and turned back. 

“Mixed, sir?” 

“ No, not mixed, sir,” said Bluenose, with a look and 
tone of withering sarcasm ; “ contrairywise, wery much 
separated.” 

When the gin and water were placed on the table, the 
captain quietly took up the former, and cast it, glass and 
all, under the grate ; after which he raised the pot of 
water to his lips, and, looking round on the company with 
a bland smile, said, — 

“ There, I’ve took somethin’ for the good of the house ; 
and now, lads, I’ll drink to your better health and happi- 
ness in my favorite tipple, the wich I heartily recommend 
to you,** 


24 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Bluenose drained the pot, flung a half-crown on the 
table, and swaggered out of the house with his hands 
deep in the pockets of his rough pea-jacket. 

The fact was that the worthy captain felt aggrieved, 
and his spirit was somewhat ruffled at the idea of being 
expected to drink in a house where he had oftentimes, 
for years past, regaled himself with, and expended his 
money upon, bread and cheese and ginger-beer ! 


CHAPTER III. 


“Where away’s the boat, lad?” said Cajtain Blue- 
nose to Bax, on recovering his equanimity. 

“ Close at hand. Mind the fluke of that anchor. The 
owner of this spot should be put in limbo for settin’ man- 
traps. Have a care of your shins, Guy ; it’s difficult 
navigation here on a dark night.” 

“ All right, Bax,” replied Guy ; “ I’ll keep close in 
your wake, so if you capsize we shall at least have the 
comfort of foundering together.” 

The place through which the three friends were grop- 
ing their way was that low locality of mud and old stores, 
which forms the border region between land and water, 
and in which dwelt those rats which have been described 
as being frolicsome and numerous. 

“ Hold hard ! ” roared Bluenose, as he tripped over 
the shank of an anchor ; “ why don’t you set up a light- 
house, or a beacon o* some sort, on these here shoals ? ” 

“ Starboard, old boy ; starboard hard ; steady ! ” cried 
Bax. 

With seamanlike promptitude the captain obeyed, and 
thus escaped tumbling off the end of the wharf at which 
they had arrived. 

“ Nancy, ahoy ! ” cried Bax in a subdued shout. 

A juvenile “ Ay, ay, sir ! ” instantly came back in re- 
ply from the dark obscurity that overhung the river. The 
sound of oars followed. 

“ Smart little fellow that nephew of yours ; he’ll do 
3 ( 25 > 


26 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


you credit some day,” said Bax, turning towards Blue* 
nose, who, although close at his side, was scarcely visi- 
ble, so dark was the night. 

The captain’s rejoinder was cut short by the boy in 
question sending the bow of the boat crash against the 
wharf — an exploit which had the effect of pitching him 
heels over head into the bottom of it. 

“ Why didn’t you give us a hail, uncle?” remonstrated 
the boy, as he rose and rubbed his elbows. 

“ Good practice, my lad ; it’s good practice,” replied 
Bluenose, chuckling, as he stepped in. 

A few seconds sufficed to take them alongside of the 
u Nancy,” in two narrow berths of which the captain and * 
Guy were quickly stowed away and souud asleep, while 
Bax paced the deck slowly overhead, having relieved the 
watch and sent him below. 

Just half an hour or so before dawn, — that mysterious, 
unreal, and solemn period of the night or morning, — Cap- 
tain Bluenose came on deck, minus his coat and shoes, in 
order to have a look at “ how things were getting on,” — 
as if the general operations of nature had been committed 
to his charge, and he were afraid lest the sun should not 
be able to rise without his assistance. 

M Light air, west-sou’-west,” muttered the captain, as 
he stepped on deck, cast a glance up at the vane on the 
mast-head, and then swept his eye round the (imaginary) 
horizon. 

There was not much to be seen, except the numerous 
lights of the shipping, and the myriad lamps of the great 
city, whose mighty hum of life had not yet begun to 
awaken. It was the deadest hour of night (if we may 
use the expression), although advanced towards morning 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


27 


The latest of late sitters-up had gone to bed arid got to 
sleep, and the earliest of early risers had not yet been 
aroused. None save night-workers and night-watchers 
were astir, and these did not disturb in any appreciable 
degree the deep quiet of the hour. 

While Bax and his friend were conversing in subdued 
tones near the binnacle, they were startled by a piercing 
shriek^ followed by a heavy^plunge in the water, which, 
from the sound, appeared to be not far distant. They 
sprang to the bow, which was pointing down the river, — 
the flood-tide was running strong up at the time. On 
reaching it they heard a gurgling cry, not twenty yards 
ahead of the vessel. 

“ Hold on ! ” cried Bax to Bluenose, sharply, at the 
same time fastening the end of a rope round his waist 
with the speed of thought, and plunging over the side 
head foremost. The cry and the plunge brought Guy 
Foster on deck instantly. He found the captain holding 
on with all his might to the end of the rope, on which 
there seemed to be a tremendous strain. 

“ Take a turn round that belayin’ pin,” gasped the cap- 
tain. 

Guy obeyed, and the moment his companion was re- 
lieved, he shouted, “ All hands ahoy ! ” 

It was unnecessary. The four men who formed the 
crew of the “ Nancy” were already springing up the fore- 
hatch. There was bustle amongst the shippiug too. 
Lights danced about, the sound of oars was heard in 
various directions, and sharp, eager shouts, as of men 
who felt that life was in danger, but knew not where to 
hasten in order to afford aid. 

“ Haul now, lads, with a will,” cried the captain ; “so* 
steady ; avast heaving. Ah ! that’s a smart lad.” 


28 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


While the men were hauling on the rope, little Tommy 
had bounded over the side into the boat, which he quickly 
brought close to the rope, and, seizing it, guided his craft 
to the end to which Bax was fastened. He found him 
buffeting the strong current stoutly, and supporting a 
head on his shoulder in such a way that the mouth should 
not get below water. 

“ All right, Tommy ,” said Bax, quietly. “ Don’t get 
excited, my lad. Lend a hand to raise her a bit out o’ 
the water. Now, can you hold her there for one mo- 
ment ? ” 

“ Yes, if you just give me the end of that shawl in my 
teeth, — so.” 

Tommy could say no more, for he was squeezed flat 
against the gunwale of the boat, with his stout little arms 
tight round the neck and waist of a female figure, the 
fingers of his left hand grasping her hair, and his legs 
twisted in a remarkable manner round the thwart to 
keep him from being dragged out of the boat, besides 
which his mouth was full of the shawl. 

Bax at once grasped the gunwale, and moved hand 
over hand to the stern, where, by a powerful effort, he 
raised himself out of the water, and sprang inboard. A 
few minutes more sufficed to enable him to drag the fe- 
male (a young girl) into the boat, and place her in safety 
on the schooner’s deck. 

The whole thing was done in much less time than is 
required to tell it. Only one of the boats that were out 
searching discovered the schooner, just as the female was 
got on board. 

“ All right?” inquired one of the men. 

“ All right — saved,” was the answer ; and the boat 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


29 


pulled away into the obscurity of the morning mist with 
a cheer of congratulation. Then all was again silent, 
and the sluggish tide glided slowly past the dark hulls 
that rested on the bosom of the Thames. 

On carrying the girl into the small cabin of the “ Nan- 
cy,” it was found that she was still in a state of insensi- 
bility. The dim light of the swinging lamp fell on her 
pale face, and revealed to the surprised and sympathetic 
beholders features of great beauty and delicate form, over 
which masses of dark brown hair straggled in wild con- 
fusion. 

“ Now, lads, clear out of the way,” cried Captain Blue- 
nose, pulling off his coat energetically. u Leave this 
here little craft to me. I know ’xactly wot’s got to be 
done, d’ye see. Turn her on her face — there ; never go 
for to put a drownded body on its back, be it man or 
woman. Stick that coat under her breast, and her arm 
under her forehead. So, now we’ll go to work.” 

There is no doubt that the worthy captain understood 
precisely what he meant to do, and was working on a 
systematic plan ; but what the result of his labors might 
have been it is impossible to say, for at that moment he 
was interrupted by the tread of hurried footsteps on deck, 
and the sudden entrance of a silvery-haired man, whose 
black coat, vest, and pantaloons contrasted strangely with 
his heavy oil-skin coat and sou’-wester, and tended to puz- 
zle the beholder as to whether he was a landsman in 
nautical outer garments, or a seaman clothed partly in 
what Jack calls “ shore-going toggery.” 

There was an expression of wild anxiety on the man’s 
face as he sprang towards the prostrate form of the girl, 
fell on his knees, and, seizing her hand, exclaimed, “ Lucy, 
3 * 


so 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


dearest Lucy ! ” He stopped suddenly, as if he had been 
choked, and, bending his ear close to Lucy’s lips, listened 
for a few seconds with knitted brow and compressed lips. 
At that moment there was a flutter on the eyelids of the 
girl, and a broken sigh escaped her. 

The man kneeling at her side sprang convulsively to 
his feet, raised his hands high above his head, and ex- 
claimed, “ O God, in. Christ’s name I thank thee,” in 
tones so fervent as almost to approach to a shout. 

With this irrepressible cry of gratitude every trace of 
strong emotion appeared to vanish from the countenance 
and the manner of the stranger. Turning to Bluenose, who 
had been gazing at this scene in much surprise, not un- 
mingled with anxiety, he said in a calm but quick voice, — 

u My friend, this child is my daughter. Pray leave 
me alone with her for a few minutes.” 

u Excuse a oldish man, sir,” said the captain ; “ p’raps 
you’d better let me stay, ’cause why, I knows how to treat 
drownded — ” 

“ Thank you ; it is unnecessary,” said the stranger. 
“ Besides, I myself am acquainted with the rules of the 
Humane Society. But you can aid me by getting hot 
blankets and warm coffee.” 

“ Come along, captain,” cried Bax, seizing his friend 
by the arm, and dragging him out of the cabin. 

Guy had quitted it, followed by Tommy, the instant 
the old man had expressed a wish to be left alone with 
his child. 

“ There, now, you obstinate man,” cried Bax, relaxing 
his grasp on gaining the foot of the companion ladder ; 
“ up with you, and send Tommy to look after coffee and 
blankets. He knows where to get ’em. I’ll go and put 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


31 


on dry toggery ; the best thing that you can do, is to 
keep out of people’s way.” 

This latter piece of advice was not very agreeable to 
one whose heart was tender, and his desire to engage 
in works of active benevolence very strong. But feeling 
that the advice was good, and thoroughly appreciating 
the fact that, having shipped as a “ suppernummerary 
hand,” he was bound to obey his young commander, he 
went on deck without remonstrance, walked aft to the 
binnacle, and began to fill his pipe. 

Guy and Tommy were already there, engaged in ear- 
nest conversation. The ruddy light of the binnacle lamp 
streamed up in the face of the latter, and revealed his 
curly, fair hair clustering in wild disorder over his flushed 
brow, as, with fire gleaming in his blue eyes, he stared 
up in his companion’s face, and related how that Bax, in 
the coolest manner possible, had kept treading water with 
the girl in his arms, knowing quite well that not even his 
strength, great though it was, could enable him to pull 
himself by the rope to the ship against the tide, and 
knowing that, in a few minutes, some one would get into 
the boat and pick them up. 

“ And so some one did ; and very cleverly and bravely 
done it was, Tommy,” said Guy, laying his hand kindly 
on the boy’s shoulder. 

“Well, I don’t think much o’ that,” replied Tommy. 
“ It don’t call for much courage to jump into a boat of a 
fine night, twist your legs round a thort, and hold on to a 
girl by claws and teeth till somebody comes to yer help.” 

It was all very well for Tommy to disclaim credit for 
what he had done ; but the glad, triumphant expression 
of his face, and his firm, erect gait, proved that he was 


32 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


very much satisfied indeed with the share he had had in 
that night’s adventure. 

“ Ah, sir,” continued the boy, “ there never was a man 
like Bax ! ” 

“ You appear to admire him very much,” said Guy ; 
“ and from the little that I have seen of him, I think you 
have good reason.” 

“ Admire him ! ” cried Tommy, with a look of scorn ; 
“ no, I don’t. I like him. He’s a trump ! ” 

“ Who’s a trump ? ” inquired Bluenose, coming up at 
that moment. 

“ Bax,” replied the boy, with the air of one who takes 
up an impregnable position, and defies the whole world 
in arms to overthrow him. 

“ So he is, so he is, a reg’lar trump,” said the captain ; 
“ an’ wot’s more, there ain’t no more of them there trumps 
in the pack, for he’s the king of ’arts, he is. An’ you’re 
a trump, too, Tommy ; you’re the knave of ’arts, you are, 
ye little beggar. Go and git blankets and hot coffee for 
that gal ; and look sharp, my lad.” 

“ I have heard you speak once or twice of Bax and his 
exploits,” said Guy Foster, when the boy left them, “but 
this is the first I have seen him perform. I did not see 
much of him when down on the coast last summer, but I 
saw enough to make me like him. Is he really the won- 
derful fellow that Tommy makes him out to be ? ” 

“Wonderful?” echoed the captain, puffing his pipe 
vigorously, as was his wont when a little puzzled for an 
expression or an idea. “No, he ain’t wonderful ; that’s 
not the word. He’s a r life-preserver, that’s wot he is 
None o’ your hinflated injin-rubber or cork affairs, but 
a reg’lar, hanimated, walkin’, self-actin’ life-preserver. 




THE LIFEBOAT. 


33 


Why, I’ve know’d him, off and on, since he was the 
length of a marline-spike, d’ye see ; an’ I’ve seed him 
save dozens, ay dozens, of lives, men, women, and chil 
dren, — in lifeboats, an’ in luggers, an’- swimmin’. Why, 
he thinks no more o’ that wot he’s done to-night, than he 
does of eatin’ salt^junk. He’s got a silver medal from 
the Royal Lifeboat Institution, an’ another from the 
Queen of Spain, and a gold un’ from some other king or 
queen, I don’t ’xactly know who ; besides no end o’ 
thanks, written on paper, also on wot they calls wellum, 
in beautiful German text and small-hand ; — ho ! you 
know, nobody knows wot that feller’s been adoin’ of all 
his life. If he was_hung round with all the, gold and 
silver medals he deserves to have, he’d go to the bottom, 
— live-preserver though he is, — like the sheet-anchor of 
a seventy-four, he would.” 

“ What’s that -about going to the bottom ? ” said Bax, 
who came aft at the moment. 

“ That’s just wot you’ve got nothin’ to do with,” re- 
plied Bluenose, resuming his pipe, which, in the ardor of 
his discourse, he had removed from his lips, and held out 
at arm’s length before him. 

“ Well, I have not much to do with going to the bot- 
tom,” said Bax, laughing. “ But where’a Tommy ? — O, 
here you are. Have you attended to orders ? ” 

“ Blankits, hot, just bin sent in. Coffee, hot, fellers 
in five minits.” 

“ Brayvo,” ejaculated Bluenose, with an approving 
smile. 

“I wonder who the old man is?” said Guy. u He 
neither looks like a landsman nor a seaman, but a sort 
of mixture of both.” 


34 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“ So he is,” said Bax. “ I happen to know him, though 
he does not know me. He is a Scripture reader to sail- 
ors (Burton by name), and has spent many years of his 
life at work on the coast, in the neighborhood of Rams- 
gate. I suppose he was goin’ down the coast in the ves- 
sel out of which his daughter tumbled. I didn’t know he 
had a daughter. By the way, she’s not a bad one to be- 
gin with, Tommy ; a regular beauty,” continued Bax, 
with a smile. “ You’ve often -wondered whether the first 
would be a man, or a woman, or a child. The point is 
settled now ! ” 

“ Yes,” replied the boy with a grave, meditative look. 
“ I suppose I may say she’s my first , for you know you 
couldn’t have done it without me.” 

There was something ludicrous, as well as sublime, in 
this little chip of humanity gravely talking of poor Lucy 
Burton being “his first,” as if he had just entered on a 
new fishing-ground, and were beginning to take account 
of the creatures he had the good fortune to haul out of 
the sea ! 

And in very truth, reader, this was the case. Under 
the training of a modest, lion-hearted British sailor, the 
boy was beginning to display, in unusual vigor, those 
daring, enthusiastic, self-sacrificing qualities, which, al- 
though mingled with much that is evil, are marked char- 
acteristics of our seamen — qualities which have gone 
far to raise our little island to her present high position 
of commercial prosperity and political importance, and 
which, with God’s blessing, will continue to carry our 
flag, our merchandise, and our Bibles, to the ends of the 
earth, and guard our shores, as in days of old, from the 
foot of every foreign foe. England can never fully ap- 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


35 


predate how much she owes to her seamen. The thou- 
sands of our inland population have a very, inadequate 
conception of the race of heroes by which our coasts are 
peopled. Bax is no exaggerated specimen, got up, in 
these sensation days, for effect. It is a glorious fact, 
proved by the, hard and bare statistics furnished annually 
by the Board of Trade, and from other sources, — that 
his name is legion, and that the men of whom, he is a 
type swarm all round our coasts, from the old Ultima 
Thule to the Land’s End. 

Yes, Tommy was in good training. He had begun 
well. He was evidently a chip of the elder block. It 
did not, indeed, occur to his young imagination to sup- 
pose that he could ever become anything in the most dis- 
tant degree resembling his idol Bax. Neither did he en- 
tertain any definite idea as to what his young heart longed 
after; but he had seen life saved; he had stood on the 
sea-shore when storms cast shattered wrecks upon the 
sands, and had witnessed the exploits of boatmen in their 
brave efforts to save human life ; he had known what it 
was to weep when the rescuer perished with those whom 
he sought to .save, and he had helped to swell, with his 
tiny voice, the bursting cheer of -triumph, when men, 
women, and children were plucked, as if by miracle, 
from the -raging sea ! To take part in those deeds of 
heroism was the leading, desire in the boy’s life ; and now 
it seemed as if his career were commencing im earnest, 
and the day-dreams in which he had so long indulged 
were at last about to become waking realities. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Mrs. Maria Foster — the widow of James Foster 
(formerly captain in the merchant service), the mother 
of Guy Foster (clerk in the firm of Denham, Crumps, 
& Co.), and the promoter or supporter of every good 
cause — was a little woman of five and forty or there- 
abouts, with mild, blue eyes, a philanthropic heart, and 
pale blue ribbons in her cap. 

Mrs. Foster may be said to have been in easy circum- 
stances ; that is to say, she had sufficient (being a thrifty 
and economical lady) to u make the two ends meet/’ 
even to overlap somewhat, though not — as a friend of 
ours once observed — to tie in a handsome bow, so that 
she had a little to spare for charitable purposes. It must 
not be supposed, however, that the good lady was pos- 
sessed of a small fortune. The “ circumstances,” which 
were easy to her, would have proved remarkably uneasy 
to many ; but she possessed the rare and tailorly quality 
of being able and willing to cut her coat according to her 
cloth. There was no deeper mystery than that in the 
“ ease” with which we have characterized her “ circum- 
stances.” 

The coast of Kent was her locality ; the environs of 
the town of Deal, her neighborhood ; and a small — al- 
most miniature, but pretty — cottage, her habitation. 
The cottage stood in the middle of a little garden, close 
to that wide extent of waste land, lying to the north of 
Deal, which is known by the name of the Sandhills, and 
( 36 ) 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


37 


on the seaward edge of which formerly sttfod the pile — 
and now lie the remains — of Sandown Castle. 

Everything in and around the cottage was remarkably 
neat, including its mistress, who, on the evening of the 
day in which her son sailed with Bax in the “ Nancy,” 
was seated at a little table in her small parlor, summing 
up an account on a sheet of note-paper, — an operation 
which appeared to cause her much perplexity, if one 
might judge from her knitted brows, her deep sighs, and 
her frequent remarks of “it won’t do,” and “ what can 
it be?” 

These observations were apparently addressed to the 
cat, which sat in front of the fire, watching the tea-kettle 
and the buttered toast ; but although the good lady was 
addicted to talking to her cat, in a general way, about 
her love for it and its state of health, we cannot suppose 
that she really appealed to it on such a grave subject as 
arithmetical calculation. If she did, she got no answer 
from the cat — not even a sign of recognition ; but she 
did from a bright-faced, fair-haired girl, of about eighteen, 
who at that moment entered the room, with a teapot in 
one hand, and a cream-jug in the other. 

“ What is it that puzzles you, mamma? ” said the girl, 
setting down the pot and jug, and preparing to attend to 
the duties of the tea-table. 

To this Mrs. Foster .replied, in an absent way, that 
she didn’t know, that it was quite. beyond her compre- 
hension, and that she was utterly-perplexed ; but that she 
would find it -out, if she should- sit all night over it. 
Whereupon she proceeded to state that “ three and two 
made five, and seven made — made” — she wasn’t quite 
sure how much that made, until her companion told her 
4 


38 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


it made twelve ; which piece of information she received 
with an u O, of course it does. Dear me, Amy, how 
silly I am ! ” — just as if she had known the fact all her 
life, and had only forgotten it at that moment, unaccount- 
ably, for the first time ! Mrs. Foster then went on to 
add a variety of other figures to this, with an occasional 
word of assistance from Amy, until the whole amounted 
to the sum of one hundred and thirty-three. 

“ There,” said Mrs. Foster, with a pleased expression, 
as she put the figures down ; “ now how many twelves 
are in that, eh? let me see. Twelve times twelve are a 
hundred and forty, — no, that’s too much ; twelve times 
eleven — how much is twelve times eleven ? ” 

Mrs. Foster did not ask this of Amy ; no, she gazed 
up at the ceiling, where an uncommonly large spider was 
affixing its web, with the design, no doubt, of lowering 
itself down to the tea-table, and demanded the solution of 
the problem, apparently, from that creature. 

“ I think it is a hundred and thirty-two, mamma,” said 
Amy, pouring out the tea. 

“ O, of course; how stupid!” said Mrs. Foster, who 
was quite struck with the obviousness of the fact — on 
being told it. “ There now, that comes to eleven shil- 
lings and one penny, which settles the Soup Kitchen. 
One pound two does the Hospital for the Blind, and 
there’s one pound due to the Sailor’s Home. But still,” 
continued Mrs. Foster, with a return of the perplexed 
expression, u that does not get me out of my difficulty.” 

“ Come to tea, dear,” said Amy, “ and we will try to 
clear it up together afterwards.” 

“ Impossible, child. I could not eat with appetite 
while this is puzzling my brain. Let me see ; there 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


39 


were fifteen pounds, apparently , spent last year, when I 
put it on paper, and yet here is a sovereign over,” said 
Mrs. Foster, holding up the coin, and looking at it re- 
proachfully, as if the blame lay with it, and not with her- 
self. 

“ Well, mamma,” said Amy, laughing, “ but where is 
your difficulty ? ” 

“Don’t you see, child? By rights, I ought to give 
fifteen pounds away ; well, my book tells me that fifteen 
pounds have ' been given, and yet here is a sovereign left 
over to give ! ” 

“ Then don’t give it, mamma ; just put it back into 
your purse, and that will make the thing right, won’t 
it?” 

“ No, dear, it won’t ; because, you see, the money 
must be right ; so the book must be wrong ; 0, here it 
is. I declare I have forgot to carry one. There, that’s 
right. Now, dear, we shall have tea.” 

It may be necessary to explain here, that although 
Amy called Mrs. Foster “ mamma,” she was in fact not 
related to her at all, being only an adopted daughter. 
Poor Amy Russell was a^child of the sea. 

Two years previous to the time of which we write, 
she, with her father and mother, had been wrecked on 
the coast of- Kent while returning from a long residence 
in New Zealand. Their ^vessel filled the moment she 
struck, and the seas buried the hull so completely that 
passengers and crew were obliged to take to the rigging. 
Here they remained all night exposed to the fury of the 
storm. Many of the unfortunates, unable to withstand 
the exposure of that terrible night, fell or were washed 
. out of the rigging, and perished. Among these were 


40 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Amy’s father and mother. Amy herself was taken care 
of by the captain, with whom she was a great favorite, 
and, along with those who remained until the morning, 
was saved by one of the lifeboats stationed on that 
coast. 

They had a narrow escape from drowning even after 
being taken into the boat, for, just as they were approach- 
ing the entrance to the harbor, where crowds of the 
inhabitants of the town were anxiously watching them 
a tremendous sea completely filled the boat, swept away 
the starboard oars, and carried several of the wrecked 
passengers overboard, Amy being one of them. This 
happened close under the head of the pier. All the 
passengers were recovered by the lifeboat’s crew in a 
few seconds, with the exception of Amy, who, being 
exhausted by previous exposure, began to sink at once. 
The boatmen, in the turmoil of raging water and howl- 
ing wind, did not observe this, and a cry of consternation 
was uttered by the people on the pier, who saw the 
whole thing clearly from their elevated position ; but 
the cry was either drowned by the noise of the tempest, 
or not understood by the boatmen. 

At that moment a tall stripling on the pier raced to the 
edge of it, shot like a rocket head foremost into the sea, 
and in a second or two reappeared with the young girl 
in his arms. They were both dragged into the lifeboat, 
amid ringing cheers of delight and admiration. 

The stripling who did this brave deed was none other 
than our friend Guy Foster, who chanced to be lodging 
with his mother in the neighboring town at that time. 
Guy insisted on having Amy conveyed to his mother's 
place of abode. Mrs. Foster soon discovered that the 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


41 


poor orphan had neither relations nor friends in Eng- 
land, and having taken a fancy to her, adopted her as 
a daughter. Thus did she come to call Mrs. Foster 
“ mamma,” and to preside at the tea-table in Sandhill 
Cottage. 

But to return from this digression : Mrs. Foster was 
congratulating herself on having discovered the error in 
her accounts, when the door opened, and a stout, florid 
woman, of fifty or thereabouts, with a shiny red skin, 
presented herself, and said, — 

u Please, ma’am, here’s a gentleman as wants to see 
you, and won’t go away, though I told him you was at 
tea, w’ich is a fact, though it had no impression what- 
ever on him, such is his imprence, goin’ for to reflect on 
my character for truth, as never told a lie since I was 
a baby in long frocks, so I didn’t ; but it’s always the 
way with these men that go tax-gatherin’, though I don’t 
know that he’s that neether, so I don’t ; what shall I say, 

* 99 

ma am r 

Mrs. Laker, having uttered the foregoing without 
pause or inflection of voice from beginning to end, came 
to an abrupt stop. Whether from want of breath or 
ideas, it is difficult to say ; perhaps from both. 

“ Show the gentleman in, Laker,” said Mrs. Foster ; 
“ no doubt he has good reason for wishing to see me.” 

Laker vanished. She was impulsive in her actions as 
well as in her words. She was her mistress’s factotum 
— her cook, housemaid, seamstress, and confidential ad- 
viser ; in addition to which she was somewhat of a'bore, 
being stubborn and opinionated, but a good and faithful 
servant on the whole. 

The individual who was presently introduced was a 

4 * 


42 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


bustling little old gentleman, with a shining bald head 
and a cheerful countenance. 

“ Excuse my rudeness — madam — ” he began, bowing 
low, as he advanced with a hesitating step — “ this in- 
trusion, really — ” 

“ Do not mention it, sir ; pray be seated,” said Mrs. 
Foster ; “ you are welcome — surely I have met with 
you before. ” 

She put on a pair of gold spectacles as she said this, 
and looked earnestly at her visitor, who, having placed 
his hat on the floor and bowed to Amy, sat down and 
pulled out a bundle of papers. 

“ You have, madam,” replied the visitor. “ My name 
is Summers — David Summers, ma’am, at your service. 
I had the pleasure of being introduced to you at a meet- 
ing in a town not far distant, where an effort was being 
made to raise contributions towards the establishment of 
a lifeboat — ” 

“ O, I recollect,” cried Mrs. Foster, whose sympa- 
thetic heart at once opened to the man who had made 
(as she had thought) such an eloquent appeal at the 
meeting in question ; “ I am delighted to see you, Mr. 
Summers. If I mistake not, I invited you to come and 
see me when you should visit this part of the coast.” 

“ You were kind enough to do so, madam ; hence my 
venturing to call at this hour. I quit Deal to-morrow, 
early, and I am anxious to replead my old cause with 
you ; but indeed I know this to be unnecessary, your 
own sympathies being already enlisted in my favor.” 

Mrs. Foster assured Mr. Summers that he was right, 
but begged of him, notwithstanding, to plead with her as 
if she were an enemy, in order that she might hear all 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


43 


he had to say on the subject, adding, that she hoped he 
would stay and have a cup of tea. 

Hereupon Mr. Summers bowed, drew in his chair, 
remarked to Amy that the lifeboat service was one of 
the most interesting and important topics of the day, and 
the National Lifeboat Institution one of the most-valu- 
able • institutions in the -kingdom, and at once launched 
into his favorite theme with all the gusto of an enthu- 
siast who has gained the ear of a sympathetic audience. 

We will, however, spare the reader the details and 
statistics which afforded so much pleasure to Mrs. Foster 
and her adopted daughter, knowing full well that there is 
an immense difference between these when set down in 
hard type, and when poured forth in rich energetic tones, 
backed by twinkling eyes and a beaming countenance. 

“ Do you really mean to tell me, Mr. Summers,” said 
Mrs. Foster, when the old gentleman came to the end 
of a long statement, “ that about a thousand ships are 
wrecked, and nearly a thousand lives lost, besides more 
than a million pounds worth of property, on the shores 
of this country every year ? ” 

“It is a sad but incontrovertible- fact,” replied Mr. 
Summers. “ Official lists are drawn up annually by the 
Board of Trade, which give the number and positions of 
wrecks — cold, dry lists they are, too. Matter-of-fact 
columns and figures, without a touch of softness about 
them. They are not meant to appeal to the feelings ; 
they are a mere record of facts. So many vessels went 
ashore in such and such a gale — they were sunk, dis- 
masted, dashed to pieces. So many persons were saved, 
so many drowned, — that is all. Ah ! who can picture 
to himself the awfubrealities that are condensed in those 
brief accounts?” 


44 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“ When a magnificent steamer, after a fine voyage 
from the antipodes, comes within hail of port, is caughf 
in a fearful hurricane, cast ashore and dashed to pieces, 
leaving hundreds of passengers, men, women, and chil- 
dren, to perish in the dark night, grasping the very rocks 
of their native land, the event is too awful to escape 
notice. So numerous are the crushed and broken hearts 
of the land, that their cry awakens public attention, aud 
the newspapers teem for a time with graphic details of 
the wreck — details which, graphic though they be, fall 
inconceivably short of the dread reality ; but no notice 
is taken, except in the way of brief record, of the dozens 
of small coasting vessels that shared the fate of that 
steamer in the same terrific gale. No one reads the fate 
of yonder little schooner, one mast of which is seen just 
peeping out of the sea under that frowning cliff, and yet 
there is a terrible tale connected with it. Who shall tell 
or conceive of the agonies endured, before the morning 
light came, by the skipper and his crew of four men and 
a boy, as their little ship was lifted and flung upon the 
rocks by each succeeding wave ? And who can conceive 
their feelings when the longed-for light did come at last, 
and daring fishermen on the shore sought to render aid 
in vain ? for their boats were overturned and cast back 
upon the beach, and themselves barely escaped with their 
lives ; and so the perishing men stood in helpless misery, 
and gazed landward in despair, until a mighty wave car- 
ried away the mast to which they clung, and with a 
last wild shriek they sank in sight of friends and home, 
because there was no lifeboat there.' 1 

“ Can this be true ? ” said Mrs. Foster, in a tone of 
deep sympathy. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


45 


“ True ! ” echoed Mr. Summers ; 44 would to God that 
it were not. I have mentioned but one case, yet it 
is a fact that for every gale that blows dozens of wrecks 
take place on our coasts, each with its more or less 
tragic history. You remember the last gale? It is 
not three weeks since it blew. No fewer than one 
hundred and ninety-five wrecks took place on the shores 
of the United Kingdom on that night and the following 
day, and six hundred and eighty-four lives were lost, 
many of which would undoubtedly have been saved had 
there been a sufficient number of lifeboats stationed 
along our shores ; for you must bear in remembrance, 
that although hundreds of lives are annually saved by 
ordinary shore boats, and by ships’ boats, hundreds also 
are saved by lifeboats in circumstances in which ordi- 
nary boats would be utterly useless. 

44 Here is a newspaper paragraph,” continued the old 
gentleman, unfolding a paper and preparing to read, 
44 which shows the brief way in which the public prints 
at times notice events of the most stirring and heroic 
nature : 4 On the morning of the 3d December last, 
after a stormy and rainy night, the wind shifted to 
N. W. and blew a hurricane. Many vessels got on 
shore near Holyhead, from various causes. The life- 
boat of the National Lifeboat Institution was launched, 
and proceeded to their assistance. She got ahead of one, 
a schooner, and anchored ; but the intense violence of the 
wind blew her to leeward, anchor and all, and she was 
unable to communicate, and had great difficulty in re- 
turning ashore. She again put off to the schooner 
Elizabeth , of Whitehaven, which had a signal of dis- 
tress flying, having parted one chain, and brought her 


46 


THE LIFEBOATo 


crew of four men on shore. The hurricane continued 
unabated well into the night. The weather having 
moderated, the lifeboat was despatched at two A. M., 
and brought on shore twenty-three men from the Con- 
fiance of Liverpool ; then again put off and brought 
ashore nineteen men from the bark Elizabeth Morrow , 
of Glasgow ; next proceeded to the schooner L’Espt- 
ranee , of Nantes, and saved two men, making altogether 
a total of forty-eight lives saved by the lifeboat in this 
hurricane only/ 

“Dear madam,” observed Mr. Summers, looking at 
Mrs. Foster over his spectacles, “ surely it is unneces- 
sary for me to point out that this brief narrative does not 
give us the most distant conception of the terrors, the 
endurance, the heroism, incident to that night ! Permit 
me to read you another paragraph. It is given more in 
detail, and does better justice to the scene.” 

The old gentleman selected another paper, opened it, 
and read as follows : — 

“ 4 The sum of nine pounds has recently been given by 
the National Lifeboat Institution to a boat’s crew, in 
appreciation of their gallant conduct in putting off in a 
salmon-coble, during a heavy gale of wind, and rescuing, 
at great risk of life, the crew of four men of the schooner 
Thankful , of Sunderland, which was totally wrecked off 
Burghead, N. B., on the 19th July. Every moment the 
position of the ship was becoming more dangerous as the 
advancing tide drove her in among the small rocks at~ 
the back of the sea-wall, and no boat could live in the 
terrible surge that was fast breaking up the vessel. The 
crew, four in number, along with the pilot, took to the 
fore-rigging, and in a short time the beach was strewn 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


47 


with pieces of the wreck — the bulwarks were nearly all 
destroyed — the boat washed overboard — and the deck 
broken up. Though only forty yards from the pier, not 
the least assistance could be rendered to the crew, whose 
faces were quite distinguishable as they clung to the 
swaying rigging. At twenty minutes past six the fore- 
mast cracked, and its living freight had hardly time to 
crawl down to the only bulwark above water (for the 
schooner now lay on her beam-ends with her bilge to- 
wards the sea), when it fell by the board. In about five 
minutes more the main-topmast was snapped by the gale 
as if it had been a reed, while the bowsprit and other 
gear were carried away, leaving nothing but the gutted 
hull with the mainmast standing. Another hour of 
awful suspense passed, during which the five men lashed 
themselves to the bulwark, the sea every other minute 
breaking over their heads in huge masses. At half past 
seven, one of the sailors, a young man, was washed from 
the wreck, but fortunately succeeded in catching the 
floating rigging, by which he was able to regain his 
former position. Another young heroic sailor seemed 
to be the life of the whole company in this trying emer- 
gency, and his efforts to keep up the spirits of his com- 
panions were signally successful. About eight o’clock 
the waves broke over the ship with renewed violence ; 
but still those on the shore could return no answer in 
the affirmative to the piercing cry that came from the 
wreck, u Can’t we get a boat?” The vcvce was that of 
the gallant sailor already referred to ; the others were 
too much exhausted to utter a word. M’lntosh, the 
pilot from Burghead,' expired from sheer,, cold and ex- 
haustion. None who saw him perish soon forgot the 


48 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


fearful agony of his daughter as she bade her fathet- 
farewell from the parapet of the breakwater. After 
renewed efforts a boat was got over the breakwater, and 
at great risk succeeded in saving the other men, who 
were in a very exhausted condition/ ” 

“ And now, dear madam,” pursued the old gentleman, 
tying up his papers, “ I will not run the risk of weary- 
ing you with more details, but come to the point at once 
by soliciting from you a contribution towards the estab- 
lishment of a lifeboat on the coast here, where I am 
sure you must be well aware there is very great need for 
one.” 

u I am sure there is,” said Mrs. Foster, opening her 
box ; u alas ! I fear the wind is rising even now. The 
rattling of the window-frames will bring what you have 
told me to remembrance ever after this night. How 
much does it require to establish a lifeboat ? ” 

“ Between five and six hundred pounds,” replied Mr. 
Summers. “ After which about twenty pounds annually 
will suffice to maintain it in working order.” 

“ So much ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Foster. u I fear that 
you will find it difficult to raise so large a sum.” 

“ I trust not ; but if we raise a pretty large proportion 
of it, the Lifeboat Institution will make up the balance. 
“ Perhaps ” — here the old gentleman paused, and looked 
dubiously at Mrs. Foster — “perhaps you would like to 
know the precise nature of the objects for which the 
Lifeboat Institution has been founded. Will you do me 
the favor to listen for five minutes longer? The opera- 
tions of the Institution are of deep importance to the 
national welfare.” 

Mrs. Foster at once expressed her willingness to listen, 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


*9 

and the old gentleman, re-opening his bundle of papers, 
selected one from which he read sundry interesting details 
regarding the National Lifeboat Institution. 

It need scarcely be said, that with such a sympathetic 
mind to address as that of Mrs. Foster, Mr. Summers 
prolonged his visit for another hour ; and it is, perhaps, 
equally unnecessary to say, that the worthy lady found a 
suitable object on which to bestow the sovereign which 
had perplexed her so much at an earlier part of. the 
evening. She not only gave the money with the air of 
a “ cheerful giver,” but she begged Mr. Summers to send 
her as many papers on the subject of lifeboats and 
wrecks as he happened to be possessed of, and promised 
to become an active agent in pleading with her friends 
in behalf of the object he had in view. 

The wind was rising while the party in Sandhill Cot- 
tage were thus engaged. It came in ominous and heavy 
gusts, rattling the window-frames, and moaning in the 
chimneys to such an extent, that Mrs. Laker, who was 
of a timid and superstitious nature, was fain to sit out- 
side the parlor door, in order to be near the other in- 
mates of the cottage. 

“About a thousand lives lost in each year on the 
shores of this kingdom ! ” thought Mrs. Foster, as she 
lay in bed that night, listening to the rising storm with 
feelings of awe and solemnity which she had never be- 
fore experienced. 

If Mrs. Foster had been acquainted with the subject 
in detail, she might have had further food for solemn re- 
flection in the fact that the greater part of those lives 
were lost unnecessarily ; that their loss was owing not 
nearly so much to the direct providence of God, as to the 
5 


50 


T II E LIFEBOAT. 


incompetence, the ignorance, the false economy, and the 
culpable, carelessness of man. 

Mrs. Foster’s head lay on a soft pillow, while the 
tempest raged around her humble dwelling. She little 
thought that one, around whom her heartstrings were 
entwined, was out on the wild sea that night, exposed to 
its utmost fury, and in urgent need of the aid of that 
species of boat which had filled her thoughts _£hat even- 
ing, and still continued to influence her dreams. 


CHAPTER V. 


What seamen style a “ whole gale ” seemed to be 
brewing when the “ Nancy ” tripped her anchor and 
shook out her sails. 

Sailors have a quiet, matter-of-fact, and professional 
way of talking about the weather. Landsmen would be 
surprised (perhaps something more) if exposed to what 
Jack calls a stiff breeze, or a capful of wind. A “ whole 
gale” may sound peculiar to some ears, but if the said 
gale were to sound in the same ears, the hearers would 
be apt to style it, in consternation, “ a most tremendous 
hurricane.” 

On board the “Nancy” Bax and Bluenose had some 
suspicion that something was brewing, but whether a 
“whole gale,” or “half a gale,” or “a stiff breeze,” they 
could not be expected to divine, not being possessed of 
supernatural gifts. 

Had they been possessed of a good barometer, they 
would have been able to foretell what was coming, with- 
out supernatural gifts ; but Messrs. Denham, Crumps, 
and Co. were economical in their tendencies, and deemed 
barometers superfluous. Being, to some extent, ignorant 
of nautical affairs (as well as of scientific), and being, 
to a large extent* indifferent to the -warning voices of 
those who, knew better, they thought fit to intrust the 
“Nancy” to the unaided wisdom of the intelligent young 
seaman who commanded her. 

Of course, being acute men of business, they took 

( 51 ) 


52 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


every “needful” precaution, and being men of ex 
perience, they were not blind to the fact that many ves- 
sels were annually lost ; they therefore insured schooner 
and cargo to their full value. Having done so, Messrs. 
Denham, Crumps, and Co. felt at ease. If the “Nancy” 
should happen to go down — no matter ; it would, per- 
haps, be a more rapid and satisfactory way of terminating 
a doubtful venture! It was just possible, that in the 
event of the “Nancy” going down, lives might be lost, and 
other lives rendered desolate. What then? The “Firm” 
had nothing to do with that ! The lives embarked in 
the “Nancy” did not belong to Denham, Crumps, and 
Co. If they should go to the bottom, there would be 
nothing to lose, and nothing to pay ; perhaps a trifle to 
the widows and children — that was all ! In regard to 
this also they felt quite at ease. 

On the strength of such views and opinions, the "tac- 
kling of the “ Nancy” was allowed to become- rotten ; 
the cables and the anchors of the “ Nancy” were eco- 
nomically weak and insufficient ; the charts of the 
“Nancy” were old and inaccurate ; and the “Nancy* 
herself was, in all- respects, utterly-unseaworthy. 

It could scarcely be expected, however, that the opera- 
tions of Nature were to be suspended because of the un- 
prepared condition of this vessel ; not to mention hundreds 
of others in similar condition. The gale continued to 
“brew.” A stiff breeze carried the “Nancy” down the 
Thames towards the open sea ; then a sudden calm left 
her to float without progressive motion on the water. 
As evening approached the breeze sprang up again, and 
freshened. Then it chopped round to the east, and when 
night fell it began to blow hard right in the teeth of the 
little vessel. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


53 


Bax was a good and a bold seaman. He knew the 
coast well, and hoped, in due course, to double the North 
Foreland, and find shelter in the Downs. He knew the 
channels and buoys thoroughly, and had often run the 
same course in stormy weather. But the gale which now 
began to buffet the little schooner was of more than or- 
dinary violence. It was one of those fierce-’ hurricanes 
which, once in a year, or, it may be, once in three or 
four years, bursts upon our island, strews the coast with 
wrecks, fills many homes and hearts with desolation, and 
awakens the inhabitants of the inland counties to a slight 
sense of the terrible scenes that are of constant occur- 
rence on the shores which form the bulwark of their 
peaceful homes. 

“We shall have rough weather to-night, I fear,” ob- 
served Mr. Burton, coming on deck some time after sun- 
set, and addressing Bax ; “ doubtless you know the 
channels well, young sir ! ” 

“ I do,” replied the sailor, with a peculiar smile. 
u Twelve years’ experience has not been altogether 
thrown away on me. I have sailed these waters in old 
Jeph’s lugger since I was a little boy.” 

“ Is that old Jeph the smuggler, sometimes called the 
mad philosopher, from the circumstance of his mind 
being much taken up with odd notions about- lifeboats ? ” 
inquired the missionary. 

“ The same,” replied Bax ; “ though I’ll go bound for 
it, there’s not an honester man in Deal than old Jeph is 
now, whatever he may have done in the smuggling way 
when he was young. I have known him only as a good 
old man ; and in regard to these same notions he has 
about lifeboats, it’s my firm belief that we’ll „see his 
5 * 


54 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


plans, or something like them, carried out before lcng, 
He’s not so mad as folk think, and certainly not half so 
mad as the people who give no thought whatever to these 
subjects.” 

Bax said this warmly, for there was a strong bond of 
sympathy between him and his old friend, whom he could 
not bear to hear mentioned in a slighting manner. 

“ I meant not to say a word against old Jeph,” re- 
plied Mr. Burton, quickly. u I merely spoke of him in 
the way in which seamen in these parts commonly refer 
to him. It pleases me much to hear so good a character 
of him from one who, I have no doubt, has had good 
opportunity of judging.” 

Here Guy Foster, who was standing near the binnacle, 
turned round and said, earnestly, — 

u I can testify to the fact that old Jeph is a good 
Christian man ; at least if love to our Savior, and anx- 
iety for the salvation of souls, is to be accepted as evi- 
dence.” 

The missionary said that there was no better evidence 
than that, and was about to question Bax further in re- 
gard to the old man who bore such a peculiar character, 
when a loud peal of thunder drew the attention of all to 
the threatening aspect of the weather. 

“ Heave the lead, Bill ! ” cried Bax to one of the men. 

“ Ha ! that’s wot I’ve been lookin’ for,” observed Blue- 
nose, spitting his quid over the lee bulwarks, and repla- 
cing it with a fresh one. “ I’ve never got no confidence 
in a skipper as don’t keep his lead a goin* in shoal water. 
Specially in sich waters as them ’ere, wot shifts more or 
less with every gale.” 

The command to heave the lead was followed by an 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


55 


order to reduce sail ; and as the gale freshened, and the 
night closed in, this order was repeated more than once, 
until the schooner was beating to windward under the 
smallest possible amount of canvas. 

An anxious expression rested on Bax’s face as he stood 
by the steersman, glancing alternately at the sails and 
at the horizon, where clouds of the blackest kind were 
gathering. 

“ Does your barometer indicate very bad weather ? ” 
inquired Mr. Burton. 

“ I have no barometer,” replied Bax, bitterly. 

The missionary looked surprised, and Guy Foster bit 
his lip, for he felt that this piece of false economy was 
a blot on the firm to which he belonged. In order to 
change the subject, he inquired for Lucy, who, since the 
time of her rescue, had remained in bed. 

“ My daughter does well, thanks be to God ! ” said 
Burton. “ I think that no evil will flow from her acci- 
dent, for she was but a short time in the water ; thanks 
to yow, friend Bax.” 

“ And to my ’prentice, Tommy Bogey,” said Bax, 
with an arch smile which was peculiar to him when he 
felt humorously disposed. 

The smile fled, however, and was replaced by an anx- 
ious look, as Tommy himself came aft and reported that 
the schooner had sprung a leak. 

Bax instantly went below, and returned with the 
assurance that the leak was trifling. 

“The ‘Nancy’ is a sorry old hulk,” said he; “but 
half an hour more on this tack, and I’ll ’bout ship and 
run for the Downs, where we will be comparatively safe.” 

The gale had by this time increased so much that the 


56 


T IT E LIFEBOAT. 


little craft lay over with her lee bulwarks almost under 
water at times. 

Little fear would her gallant commander have felt had 
she been tight, and trim, and sound ; but he knew that 
her rigging was old, and one of her masts unsound, and 
he felt that the best seamanship could be of no avail 
whatever against her numerous defects. His experi- 
enced eye told him that a storm of no ordinary severity 
was coming, and he trembled for the life of the young 
girl who had been so unexpectedly placed under his care. 

Had the dangers attendant upon an unseaworthy ves- 
sel, and the difficulty of navigating the channels of these 
celebrated Sands, been all that Bax had to fear, he would 
have felt comparatively at ease ; but the economical spirit 
of Denham, Crumps, and Co. had supplied him with 
anchors and chains which he feared were neither new 
enough nor sufficiently powerful to hold his vessel after 
she had gained her anchorage-ground. In these circum- 
stances he resolved to run for the shelter of Ramsgate 
Harbor. 

Before he could carry out his intentions, the wind 
chopped round to the north, and for some time blew so 
hard as to threaten the capsizing of the schooner. The 
cross sea also rendered her almost unmanageable, so that, 
ere long, she was driven to leeward of the outer lightship 
that marks the north end of the Goodwins. 

Again the wind shifted a few points to the eastward, 
and soon the “Nancy” was flying like a race-horse to- 
wards the shore. 

Pilots and seamen alone can properly comprehend the 
peculiar dangers that attend the navigation of this part 
of our coast. It would only perplex a landsman to be 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


57 


told in detail the proceedings of the “Nancy” and her 
crew after this point. Suffice it to say, that Bax handled 
her with consummate skill, and did all that man could do 
for the safety of his vessel, and the human lives that 
were dependent on his knowledge and care. 

“ Is your daughter dressed ?” inquired Bax of Mr. Bur- 
ton, as a fiercer gust than usual nearly laid the schooner 
on her beam-ends, and deluged the decks with water. 

“ No, she sleeps soundly, and I am loath to disturb 
her. Do you think we are in much danger ? ” 

“ In none, if the schooner were seaworthy ; but in 
much, seeing that she has not got a sound plank or spar. 
Go dowu, sir, and get her dressed at once ; and, harkee, 
let her put on every wrap she happens to have with her.” 

The missionary needed no second bidding. He went 
below to rouse and assist Lucy, while Bluenose, Guy, and 
the rest of those on board, held on to ropes and belaying 
pins, and awaited the result in silence. The noise of the 
wind, and the peals of thunder that seemed to tear the 
heavens asunder, rendered conversation impossible. They 
all felt that a few minutes would decide whether this ter- 
rible rush landward would terminate in safety or disaster, 
and they knew that everything, as far as human skill had 
to do with it, depended on Bax. 

With a look of calm, sober gravity, the young seaman 
stood grasping the weather-shrouds of the mainmast, 
and looking intently towards the lightship called the Gull 
Light, which is anchored off the North-sand-head. 

During this period of suspense the lead was kept con- 
stantly going, and reported almost every half minute. 
Precious, significant half minutes those — as much so as 
are the last few grains of sand in the hour-glass ! 


58 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


u Keep her away two points,” cried Bax. 

u Ay, ay, sir,” answered the steersman. At that 
moment a violent gust snapped the topsail-yard, and the 
6ail was instantly blown to ribbons. The dashing of this 
spar about carried away the fore-topmast, and almost as 
a necessary consequence, the jib with the jib-boom went 
along with it. 

The schooner instantly became unmanageable, and 
was driven bodily to leeward. 

Seizing an axe, Bax, with the prompt assistance of the 
crew and his friends, soon cleared away the wreck, and 
once more got the head of his vessel round towards the 
Gull Light, the lanterns of which were seen faintly 
gleaming through the murky atmosphere. But it was 
too late. The breakers of the North-sand-head were 
already roaring under their lee, and also right ahead 
of them. 

“ Port ! port ! hard a-port ! ” shouted Bax. 

“ Port it is,” replied the steersman, with that calm 
professional sing-song tone peculiar to seamen. 

At that instant the schooner struck the sand, passed 
over the first line of breakers, and rushed onwards to 
certain destruction. 

“ Bring Lucy on deck,” cried Bax. 

Mr. Burton ran below to obey, but the words had 
scarce been spoken, when Guy Foster entered the cabin, 
and seizing the trembling girl in his arms, bore her 
gently, but swiftly, to the deck. 

Here the scene that met her gaze was truly awful. It 
seemed as if above and below there were but one wild 
chaos of waters, over which brooded a sky of ebony. 
The schooner had by this time got into the hideous 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


59 


f 


turmoil of shallow water, the lurid whiteness of which 
gleamed in the dark like unearthly light. As yet the 
vessel was rushing fiercely through it ; the rudder had 
been carried away by the first shock, and she could not 
be steered. Just as Lucy was placed by Bax in a posi- 
tion of comparative shelter under the lee of the quarter- 
rails, the “Nancy” struck a second time with fearful 
violence ; she remained hard and fast on the sands, and 
the shock sent her foremast overboard. 

If the condition of the little vessel was terrible before, 
its position now was beyond description awful. The 
mad seas, unable to hurl her onward, broke against her 
sides with indescribable fury, and poured tons of water 
on the deck, so that no one could remain on it. Hav- 
ing foreseen this, Bax had prepared for it. He had 
warned all on board to keep close by the main shrouds, 
and take to the mast when the schooner should strike. 
He himself bore Lucy aloft in his strong arms as if she 
had been a little child, and placed her on the main cross- 
trees. Here she clung with a convulsive grasp to the 
main-topmast, while Guy secured her in her position with 
a rope. 

Sitting down on the cross-trees and holding on to them 
by his legs, — a matter of no little difficulty, as the vessel 
was rolling violently from side to side, — Bax began to 
strip off his thick pilot-cloth coat, intending to cover the 
girl with it. But he was arrested by the boy Tommy 
Bogey. 

“Hold on,” he shouted into his commander’s ear ; “ I 
fetched up this un ; I know’d ye’d want it for ’er.” 

Tommy had thoughtfully carried up one of Bax’s 
spare coats, and now handed it to his master, who, 


60 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


assisted by Mr. Burton, wrapped it carefully round 
Lucy, and then descended the rigging to examine the 
state of the vessel. 

She heeled very much over to leeward, but the form 
of the bank on which she lay fortunately prevented her 
being thrown altogether on her beam-ends. Had this 
happened, the cross-trees would have been buried in 
water, and all must have perished. 

When Bax reascended the mast, Bluenose put his 
mouth close to his ear, and shouted, — 

u Couldn’t ye send up a rocket?” 

“ Hain’t got any,” replied Bax. 

There had been a signal-gun aboard, but at the first 
shock it tore its fastenings out of the old planks, and 
went crashing through the lee bulwarks into the sea. 

u Couldn’t we get up a glim, no how ? ” pursued Blue- 
nose. 

“ Ay, couldn’t that be done?” cried Guy, who clam- 
bered towards them in order to take part in the consul- 
tation ; for the shrieking of the storm rendered every 
voice inaudible at the distance of anything short of an 
inch or two from the ear. 

“ The matches were in the cabin, and that’s flooded 
now,” said Bax. 

Guy replied by taking a tin box from his pocket, in 
which were a few matches. 

“ Ha ! that’ll do,” cried Bax, eagerly ; “ there’s a can 
of turpentine just under the fore-hatch, which can’t have 
been damaged by water. I’ll go fetch it.” 

“ Stay ; I will go. Do you look after Lucy and her 
father,” said Guy ; and, without waiting for a reply, lie 
slid down one of the back-stays and gained the deck. 


ny, 











THE LIFEBOAT. 


61 


To traverse this was an act involving great danger 
and difficulty. The waves broke over it with such force 
that Guy’s arms were nearly torn out of their sockets 
while he held to the bulwarks. He attained his object, 
however, and in a short time returned to the cross-trees 
with the can. Bax had in the mean-time cut off some of 
the drier portions of his clothing. These, with a piece 
of untwisted rope, were soaked in turpentine, and con- 
verted hastily into a rude torch ; but it was long before 
a light could be got in such a storm. The matches were 
nearly exhausted before this was accomplished. Only 
those who have been in similar circumstances can ade- 
quately appreciate the intense earnestness with which 
each match was struck, the care with which it was 
guarded from the wind, and the eager anxiety with 
which the result was watched ; also the sinking of heart 
that followed each effort, as, one by one, they flared for 
an instant and went out ! 

At last the saturated mass caught fire ; and instantly 
a rich flame of light flashed over the wild scene, and 
clearly revealed to them the appalling circumstances in 
which they were placed. Poor Lucy shuddered, and 
covering her eyes, cast herself in prayer on Him “ who 
is mighty to save.” Bax raised the burning mass 
high over his head, and waved it in the black air. He 
even clambered to the top of the broken mast, in order to 
let it be seen far and wide over the watery waste. The 
inflammable turpentine refused to be quenched by the 
raging storm, and in a few seconds they had the-comfort 
of seeing the bright flame of a- rocket shoot up into the 
sky. At the same moment a flash in the distance showed 
that their signal had been observed by the lightship. 

6 


62 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


The sound of the gun was not heard by those on the 
wreck, but both it and the rocket were observed from the 
shore, where many a hardy seaman and pilot, knowing 
full well the dangers of such a night, kept watch and 
ward in order to render prompt assistance to their fellow- 
men in distress. 

It would be a matter of some interest to ascertain how 
many of the inhabitants of this busy, thickly-peopled isle 
are aware of the fact that during every storm that blows, 
while they are slumbering, perchance, in security and 
comfort in their substantial dwellings, there are hundreds, 
ay, thousands, of hardy seamen all round our coasts, 
standing patiently in such sheltered spots as they can 
find, encased in oil-skin, and gazing anxiously out into 
the dark sea, regardless of the pelting storm, indifferent 
to the bitter cold, intent only on rendering aid to their 
fellow-men, and ready at a moment’s notice to place life 
and limb in the most imminent jeopardy, for what? 
Can any one suppose that they do this for the sake of 
the silver, medal, or the ten or twenty shillings awarded 
to those who thus act, by the Lifeboat Institution? Do 
men in other circumstances hold their lives so cheap? 
Assuredly there is a higher, a nobler motive that prompts 
the heroes of our coast to their deeds of self-sacrifice and 
daring. 

To those who clung to the main-top of the “Nancy” 
these signals were a bright gleam of hope, with the ex- 
ception of Lucy, whose spirit sank when she endeavored 
in vain to penetrate the thick darkness that followed. 
Suspecting this, Bluenose, who clung to the cross-trees 
beside the missionary, and assisted him to shelter his 
daughter from the storm, shouted in her ear to keep her 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


65 


mind easy, “ for the people on shore would be sure to 
send off the lifeboat, and there would be no danger if 
the mast held on ! ” 

u If the mast held on ! ” Ha ! little did Lucy know 
how much anxiety filled the heart of Bax in regard to 
the mast holding on ! With much difficulty he had per- 
suaded Denham, Crumps, and Co., about a year before 
the events we are now relating, that the mainmast of 
the “ Nancy” was utterly useless, and obtained their un- 
willing consent to have it renewed. But for this it would 
have shared the fate of the foremast, and those who now 
clung to it would have been in eternity. But although 
the mast was strong, its step and holdfasts, Bax knew, 
were the reverse of sound ; and while he stood there 
cheering his companions with hopeful remarks, he alone 
knew how frail was the foundation on which his hopes 
were founded. 

Fortunately for Lucy and her father, they looked to a 
higher source for comfort than the young skipper of the 
“ Nancy.” They knew that it was no uncommon thing 
for men, women, and children to be saved, on the coasts 
of Britain, “ as if by miracle,” and they felt themselves to 
be in the hands of Him “ whom the winds and the sea 
obey.” 

Guy held on to the weather-shrouds close to Bax. 
Speaking so as not to be heard by the others, he said, — 

“ Is there much chance of a boat putting off to us ? ” 

“Not much,” replied Bax. “ A lugger could scarcely 
live in such a sea Certainly it could not come near us 
in this shoal water. I doubt even if the lifeboat could 
come here.” 

For two hours after this they remained silently in 


64 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


their exposed position, their limbs stiffening with cold, 
drenched continually with spray, and occasionally over- 
whelmed by the crest of a monstrous wave. Sometimes 
a rocket from the lightship shot athwart the dark sky, 
and at all times her lights gleamed like faint stars far 
away to windward. When the sea broke around them 
in whiter sheets than usual, they could see the head of 
the broken foremast drawn against it like a black line to 
leeward. Everything else, above and below, was thick 
darkness. 

One of the seamen, who had been for some time in 
bad health, was the first to give way. Without uttering 
a word, he loosened his hold of the shrouds and fell back- 
wards. Guy saw him falling, and, making a desperate 
grasp at him, caught him by the breast of his shirt ; but 
the garment gave way, and next moment he was down 
in the boiling flood. Guy, with an impulse that was 
natural to him, was about to leap off to his rescue ; but 
Bluenose caught him by the collar and held him forcibly 
back. In another moment the man was gone forever. 

So silently did all this pass, and so furious was the 
tumult of the storm, that Lucy and her father were not 
aware of what had occurred. 

Our brave little friend Tommy Bogey was the next who 
failed. Whether it was that witnessing the seaman’s 
death had too powerful an effect on his spirit, or that the 
cold acted more severely on his young muscles than on 
those of his companions, it is impossible to say ; but soon 
after the loss of the man, the boy felt his strength giving 
way. Turning with instinctive trust to his friend in this 
extremity, he shouted, — 

“ Bax, give us a hand ! ” 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


65 


Before his friend could do so, liis grasp relaxed, and he 
fell back with a piercing shriek that rose above even the 
howling wind. 

Almost an instant after he struck the water, Bax dived 
head foremost into it, and came up with him in his arms. 
Both man and boy went to leeward instantly. The former 
had counted on this. The fate of the seaman who had 
just perished had led him to reflect that a vigorous effort 
might have enabled him to gain the stump of the fore- 
mast, which still stood, as we have said, to leeward of 
the mainmast. Acting on this thought, he had plunged 
without hesitation when the moment for actiou came, al- 
though it did come unexpectedly. 

A faint shout soon told his horror-stricken companions 
that he had gained the point of safety. 

“ It won’t do to leave ’em there,” cried Bluenose, 
starting up, and clambering as far out on the cross-trees 
as he dared venture ; “ even if the mast holds on, them 
seas would soon wash away the stoutest man living.” 

“O, save my preserver!” cried Lucy, who, regard- 
less of the storm, had sprung wildly up, and now stood 
clinging to a single rope, while her garments were almost 
torn from her limbs by the fury of the hurricane. 

“Can nothing be done to save them? ” cried the mis- 
sionary, as he kindly but firmly dragged his daughter 
back to her former position. 

“Nothin’, sir,” said one of the sailors. “There ain’t 
a cask, nor nothin’ to tie a rope to an’ heave to wind’ard 
— an* it’s as like as not it wouldn’t fetch ’em if there 
was. They’d never see a rope if it was veered to ’em — 
moreover, it wouldn’t float. Hallo! Master Guy, wotf 
are ye up to ? ” 


6 * 


66 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Guy had hauled in the slack of one of the numerous 
ropes attached to the mainmast that were floating away to 
leeward, and was fastening the end of it round his waist. 
Bluenose and the missionary turned quickly on hearing 
the seaman’s shout, but they were too late to prevent the 
bold youth from carrying out his design, even if they had 
wished to do so. 

Taking a vigorous spring to windward, Guy was in 
the sea in a moment. In another instant he was lost to 
view in darkness. Bluenose seized the end of the rope, 
and awaited the result in breathless suspense. Presently 
a shout, so faint that it seemed miles away, was heard 
to leeward, and the rope was jerked violently. 

“ Now, lads, all hands a-hoy ! ” cried Bluenose, in wild 
excitement ; “just give ’em time to haul in the slack, and 
tie it round ’em, and then pull with a will.” 

The incident and the energy of the captain seemed to 
act like a spell on the men who had up to this time clung 
to the shrouds in a state of half-stupor. They clustered 
round Bluenose, and each, gaining the best footing possi- 
ble in the circumstances, seized hold of the rope. 

Again the rope was shaken violently, and a heavy 
strain was felt on it. The men pulled it in with diffi- 
culty, hand over hand, and in a short time, Bax, Guy, 
and Tommy were once more safe in their former position 
on the cross-trees. 

Terrible indeed their danger, when such a position 
could be spoken of as one of safety ! 

Another hour passed away. To those who were out 
on that fatal night the minutes seemed hours — the hours 
days. Still no succor came to them. The storm, in- 
stead of abating, seemed to be on the increase. Had it 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


6 ^ 

not been for the peculiar form of the shoal on which they 
lay, the old vessel must have been dashed to pieces in the 
first hour of that terrible gale. 

Gradually Bax ceased to raise his encouraging voice, 
— indeed, the whistling wind would have rendered it in- 
audible, — and the party on the cross-trees clung to their 
frail spar almost in despair. As the gale increased, so 
did the danger of their position. No chance of deliver- 
ance seemed left to them, no prospect of escape from 
their dreadful fate ; the only ray of hope that came to 
them fitfully through the driving storm, was the faint 
gleaming of the lightship that guards the Goodwin 
Sands. 


CHAPTER VI. 


Deal beach is peculiar in more respects than one. 
There are a variety of contradictory appearances about 
it which somewhat puzzle a visitor, especially if he be 
accustomed to sea-coast towns and villages in other parts 
of the country. 

For one thing, all the boats seem hopelessly high and 
dry on the beach, without the chance, and apparently 
without any intention, of ever being got off again. Then 
there is, at certain seasons of the year, nothing whatever 
doing. Great hard-fisted fellows, with nautical garments 
and bronzed faces, are seen lounging about with their 
hands in their pockets, and with a heavy slowness in 
their gait, which seems to imply that they are elephant- 
ine creatures, fit only to be looked at and wondered at as 
monuments of strength and laziness. 

If the day happens to be fine and calm when the 
stranger visits the beach, he will probably be impressed 
w r ith the idea that here is an accumulation of splendid 
sea-going materiel , which has somehow got hopelessly 
stranded and become useless. 

Of course, in the height of summer, there will be found 
bustle enough among the visitants to distract attention 
from the fact to which I allude ; but in spring, before 
these migratory individuals arrive, there is marvellously 
little doing on Deal beach in fine weather. The pilots 
and boatmen lounge about, apparently amusing them- 
selves with pipes and telescopes ; they appear to have no 
( 68 ) 


T II E LIFEBOAT. 


69 


object in life but \\o kill time ; they seem a set of idle, 
hulking fellows ; — ^ nevertheless, I should say, speaking 
roughly, that at least the -half of these men are heroes ! 

The sturdy oak, in fine weather, bends only its topmost 
branches to the light wind, and its leaves and twigs alone 
are troubled by the summer breeze ; but when the gale 
lays low the trees of the forest, and whirls the leaves 
about like ocean spray, then the oak is stirred to wild 
action — tosses its gnarled limbs in the air, and moves the 
very earth on which it stands. So the heroes on Deal 
beach are sluggish and quiescent while the sun shines 
and the butterflies are abroad; but let the storm burst 
upon the sea ; let the waves hiss and thunder on that steep, 
pebbly shore ; let the breakers gleam on the horizon just 
over the fatal Goodwin Sands ; or let the night descend 
in horrid blackness, and shroud beach and breakers alike 
from mortal view, then the man of Deal bestirs his 
powerful frame, girds up his active loins, and claps on his 
sou’-wester ; launches his huge boat, that seemed before 
so hopelessly high and dry ; hauls off through the raging 
breakers, and speeds forth on his errand of mercy over 
the black and stormy sea with as much hearty satisfaction 
as if he were hasting to his bridal, instead of, as is too 
often the case, to his -doom. 

Near the north end of Deal beach, not very far from 
the ruins of Sandown Castle, there stood an upturned 
boat, which served its owner as a hut or shelter, whence 
he could sit and scan the sea. This hut, or hovel, was a 
roomy and snug enough place, even in rough weather ; 
and although intended chiefly as a place of out-look, it 
nevertheless had sundry conveniences, which made it 
little short of a veritable habitation. Among these were 


70 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


a small stove and a swinging oil-lamp, which, when lights 
ed, filled the interior with a ruddy glow that quite warmed 
one to look at. A low door, at one end of the hovel, 
faced the sea, and there was a small, square hole, or 
window, beside it, through which the end of a telescope 
generally protruded, for the owners of the hovel spent 
most of their idle time in taking observations of the sea. 
There was a bench on either side of the hut, which was 
lumbered with a confused mass of spars, sails, sou’-west- 
ers, oil-skin coats and trousers, buoys, sea-chests, rud- 
ders, tar-barrels, and telescopes. 

This hovel belonged jointly to old Jeph and Captain 
Bluenose. Bax had shared it with them before he was 
appointed to the command of the “ Nancy.” In the olden 
time the owners of these nautical -huts dwelt in them ; 
hence the name of “ hoveller,” which is used at the pres- 
ent day. But with the progress of- civilization the hov- 
ellers have come to reside in cottages, and only regard 
the hovels as their places of business. Hovellers, as a 
class, do little -else than go off to ships in. distress and 
to wrecks ; in which dangerous occupation they are 
successful in annually saving much property and many 
human lives. Their livelihood from salvage, as may be 
supposed, is very precarious. Sometimes they are “ flush 
of cash,” at other times reduced to a low enough ebb. 
In such circumstances it almost invariably follows that 
men are improvident. 

Not many years ago the hovellers were notorious 
smugglers. Many a bold deed and wild, reckless venture 
was made on Deal beach, in days of old, by these fellows, 
in their efforts to supply the country with French lace, 
and brandy, and tobacco, at a low price ! Most of the old 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


71 


houses in Deal are full of mysterious cellars, and invisi- 
ble places of concealment in walls, and beams, and chim- 
neys ; showing the extent to which contraband trade was 
carried on in the days of our fathers. Rumor says that 
there is a considerable amount of business done in that 
way even in our own days ; but everybody knows what a 
story-teller rumor is. The only thing that gives any 
color to the report is the fact that there is still a pretty 
strong coast-guard force in that region ; and one may 
observe that whenever a boat comes to the beach, a stout 
fellow in the costume of a man-of-war’s man, goes up to 
it, and pries into all its holes and corners, pulling about 
the ballast-bags and examining the same in a cool, mat- 
ter-of-course manner, that must be extremely irritating, 
one would imagine, to the owner of the boat ! 

At night, too, if one chances to saunter along Deal 
beach by moonlight, he will be sure to meet, ere long, 
with a portly personage of enormous breadth, enveloped 
in many and heavy garments, with a brace of pistols 
sticking out of his breast pockets, and a short cutlass by 
his side. But whatever these sights and symptoms may 
imply, there can be no question that smuggling now is not, 
by any means, what it was thirty or forty years ago. 

On the night of the storm, described in the last chap- 
ter, the only individual in old Jeph’s hovel was old Jeph 
himself. He was seated at the inner end of it, on a low 
chest, near the stove, the light of which shone brightly 
on his thin old face and long white locks, and threw a 
gigantic black shadow on the wall behind. The old man 
was busily engaged in forming a model boat out of a 
piece of wood with a clasp-knife. He muttered to him 
self as he went on with his work, occasionally pausing to 


72 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


glance towards the door, the upper half of which was 
open, and revealed the dark storm raging without. 

On one of these occasions old Jeph’s eyes encountered 
those of a man gazing in upon him. 

“ Is that you, Long Orrick ? Come in ; it’s a cold 
night to stand out i’ the gale.” 

lie said this heartily, and then resumed his work, as 
if he had forgotten the presence of the other in an instant. 
It is not improbable that he had, for Jeph was very-old. 
He could not have been far short of -ninety years of age. 

Long Orrick entered the hovel, and sat down on a 
bench opposite the old man. He was a very tall, raw- 
boned, ill-favored fellow, of great muscular strength, and 
with a most forbidding countenance. He was clad in 
oiled, rougli-weather garments. 

“You seem busy, old man,” said he, abruptly. 

“ Ay, I had need be busy,” said old Jeph, without 
looking up ; “there are many Jives to .save ; many lives 
bein’ lost this very night, and no means of savin’ ’em ; 
leastwise not sufficient.” 

“ Humph ! ye’re eternally at that bit o’ humbug. 
It’s bam, old man, all bam ; bosh aud gammon,” said 
Orrick. “ It’ll never come to no good, I tell ye.” 

“Who knows?” replied the old man, meekly, but 
going on with his work not the less diligently because 
of these remarks. 

“ Jeph,” said Orrick, leaning forward until his sharp 
features were within a few inches of his companion’s 
face, — “Jeph, will ye tell me where the ‘hide’ is in yer 
old house ? ” 

“ No, Long Orrick, I won’t,” replied the old man, 
with an amount of energy of which he seemed, a few 
seconds before, quite incapable. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


73 


The reply did not seem to please Long Orrick, neither 
did the steady gaze with which it was accompanied. 

“ You won’t?” said old Orrick, between his set teeth. 

“No,” replied the old man, dropping his eyes on the 
little boat, and resuming his work. 

“Why not?” continued the other, after a pause ; “ you 
don’t require the hide — why won’t you lend it to a chum 
as is hard up ? ” 

“ Because I won’t encourage smugglin’,” said Jeph. 

“ You’ve smuggled enough in yer young days yerself, 
you old villain ! you might help a friend a bit ; it won’t 
be you as does it.” 

“ It’s because I have smuggled w’en I was young, 
that I won’t do it now that I’m old, nor help any one 
else to,” retorted Jeph ; “ besides, you’re no friend o’ 
mine.” 

“ What if I turn out to be an enemy ? ” cried Orrick, 
fiercely ; “ see here,” said he, drawing out a long knife, 
and holding it up so that the light of the stove glittered 
on its keen blade ; “ what if I give you a taste of this, 
old man ? ” 

“ You won’t,” said Jeph, calmly. 

“ No ! why not ? ” 

“ Because you’re a coward,” replied Jeph, with a quiet 
chuckle ; “ you know that you wouldn’t like to be hanged 
— ha, ha ! and you know that Bax would be down on you 
if you touched my old carcass.” 

Long Orrick uttered a savage oath, and said, “ I’m 
brave enough, any how, to let you taste the cold steel to- 
night — or desperate enough, if ye prefer it.” 

He seized Jeph by the throat as he spoke, and pressed 
the blade of the knife against his breast. The old man 
7 


74 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


did not shrink, neither did he struggle. He knew that 
he was in the hands of one whose type is but too com- 
mon in this world, — a bully and a coward, — and knowing 
this, felt that he was safe. 

It seemed, however, as if the very elements scorned 
the man who could thus raise his hand against unprotect- 
ed age, for the wind shrieked louder than usual in its 
fury, and a blinding flash of lightning, accompanied by 
a deep crash of thunder, added to the horror of the 
scene. 

Just then an exclamation was heard at the door of the 
hovel. Long Orrick released his hold hastily, and turn- 
ing round, observed a round, ruddy visage scowling at 
him, and the glittering barrel of a pistol levelled at his 
head. 

“ Ha, ha ! ” he laughed hoarsely, endeavoring to pass 
it off as a jest ; “ so you’ve caught us jokin’, Coleman, 
— actin’ a bit, — and took it for arnest, eh ? ” 

“Well, if it is actin’, it’s oncommon ugly actin’, 1 
tell ye ; a deal too nat’ral for my tastes ; so I’d advise ye 
to drop it here, an’ carry yer talents to a theaytre, where 
you’ll be paid accordin’ to your desarts, Long Orrick.” 

“ Ah ! the night air don’t agree with ye, Coleman ; so 
I’ll bid ye good by,” said the other, rising and quitting 
the hut. 

“ Wot’s he bin’ a doin’ of, old man?” inquired Cole- 
man, who was a huge, ruddy, good-humored coast-guard- 
man, with the aspect of a lion and the heart of a lamb, 
whose garments were of the roughest and largest kind, 
and who was, to adopt a time-honored phrase, armed to 
the teeth, — that is to say, provided with a brace of pis- 
tols, a cutlass, and a port-fire, which last could, on being 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


75 


struck against a rock, burst into flame, and illuminate 
the region for many yards around him. 

“ O, he’s bin actin’,” replied the old man, with a 
quiet chuckle, as he resumed his work on the boat ; 
“ he’s bin’ actin’ ; that’s all.” 

At this moment the boom of a gun, fired by the Gull 
lightship, broke on the ears of the men of Deal, and a 
moment later the bright flash of a rocket was seen. It 
was the well-known signal that there was a ship in dis- 
tress on the sands. 

Instantly the hardy boatmen were at work. One of 
their largest boats was launched through the wild surf, 
as if by magic, and its stout crew were straining at the 
oars, as if their lives depended on the result. 

The boat happened to be the one belonging to Captain 
Bluenose and his comrades, and the first man who leaped 
into her, as she was driven down into the sea, was Long 
Orrick ; for, bad man though he was, he was not with- 
out his redeeming points, and, coward though he was 
before the face of man, he was brave enough in facing 
the dangers of the sea. 

It was a fearful struggle in which the Deal lugger en- 
gaged that night. The sea threatened to bury her alto- 
gether, as she pushed off through the breakers, and some 
of the men seemed to think it would be too much for 
them. A man named Davis took the helm ; he had saved 
many a life on that coast in his day. 

The intense darkness of the night, coupled with the 
fury of the winds and waves, were such that no men, 
save those who were used to such scenes, would have be- 
lieved it possible that any boat could live in so wild a 
storm. In addition to this, the cold was excessive, and 


76 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


the spray broke over them so continuously, that the pump 
had to be kept going, in order to prevent their getting 
filled altogether. 

It was a long, weary pull to the Gull lightship. When 
they reached it, they hailed those on board, and asked 
where away the wreck was. 

“ Right down to leeward, on the Sand-head,” was the 
reply. 

Away went the lugger before the gale, with just a 
corner of the foresail hoisted. It was not long before 
they came in sight of the breakers on the Sands. Here 
they were obliged to put out the oars and exercise the 
utmost caution, lest they should incur the fate from which 
they had come out to rescue others. Davis knew the 
shoals and channels well, and dropped down as far as 
he dared, but no wreck of any kind was to be seen. 

“ D’ye see anything?” shouted Davis to Long Orrick, 
who was in the bow. 

Orrick’s reply was inaudible, for the shrieking of the 
gale and the roar of breakers drowned his voice. 

At that moment a huge wave broke at a considerable 
distance ahead of them, and against its white crest some- 
thing like the mast of a vessel was discerned for an 
instant. 

“ God help them ! ” muttered Davis to himself ; “ if 
they’re as far as that on the Sands, there’s no chauce for 
them, unless, indeed, the Broadstairs or Ramsgate life- 
boat finds ’em out. Let go the anchors ! ” he shouted ; 
“ look sharp, lads ! ” 

The anchor was let go, and the lugger was veered 
down by its cable as far in the direction of the wreck as 
possible ; but the boat was so large, and drew so much 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


77 


water, that they could not even get within sight of the 
wreck. In these circumstances, the men nestle, d as they 
best might under the lee of the boat’s sides, and prepared 
to ride out the storm, or, at least, to remain at anchor 
there until daylight should enable them to act with more 
precision and safety. 

Fortunately for all parties concerned, other eyes and 
ears had been on the watch that night. At Broadstairs, 
which lies a little to the north of Deal, the crew of the 
lifeboat had been on the lookout ; and no sooner did they 
see the rocket and hear the gun, than they launched their 
boat, and put off to the rescue. 

It is generally found that there are more men to man 
the lifeboats, on many parts of our coasts, than are re- 
quired, and this is specially the case on the Kentish coast. 
Hence, when the signal-rocket goes up on a stormy night, 
many eager eyes are on the watch, and there is a rush 
to the boat in order to secure a place. On this occasion 
there were one or two men who, rather than wait to pull 
on their oil-skin coats and pantaloons, had run down just 
as they happened to be clothed at the time, and in a very 
unfit state to face the inclemency of a night which might 
involve hours of unremitting and exhaustive labor. Thes£ 
jumped into their places r however, and their less fortu- 
nate comrades, who arrived too late, supplied them with 
garments. In five minutes the lifeboat was flying under 
sail towards the Goodwin Sands. 

Seldom had the Broadstairs boat faced so wild a storm 
as that which blew on this occasion. The seas broke over 
her in cataracts. Again and again she was more than 
half filled with water ; but this was speedily got rid of, 
and in the course of an hour she was beside the lugger. 
7 * 


78 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“Where away?” shouted the cockswain of the lifeboat, 
as they passed. 

“ Right ahead ; not two cables’ lengths,” roared 
Davis. 

The sails of the lifeboat had already been lowered, and 
the oars were out in a second. Gradually and slowly 
they dropped down towards the breakers, and soon 
caught sight of the mast of the “Nancy,” still tower- 
ing up in the midst of the angry waters. 

The danger to the lifeboat was now very great, for 
there was such a wild chopping sea on the Sands that it 
ran great risk of being upset. The boat was one of the 
old-fashioned stamp, which, although incapable of being 
sunk, was not secure against being overturned ; and it did 
not possess that power of righting itself which charac- 
terizes the lifeboats of the present day. 

In a few minutes they were near enough to see the 
mast of the “ Nancy ” dimly in the dark. The cockswain 
immediately gave the order to let go the nnchor and veer 
down towards the wreck. Just as he did so, a terrific 
sea came rolling towards them like a black mountain. 

“ Look out, men ! ” he shouted. 

Every man let go his oar, and, throwing himself on 
the thwart, embraced it with all his might. The wave 
went right over them, sweeping the boat from stem to 
stern ; but, as it had met the sea stern-on, it was not over- 
turned. It was completely filled, however, and some 
time was necessarily lost in freeing it of water. The 
oars, being attached to the sides of the boat by lanyards, 
were not carried away. 

In a few minutes they had veered down under the le^\ 
of the wreck. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


79 


The crew and passengers of the “ Nancy 99 were still 
clinging to the cross-trees, benumbed and almost unable 
to speak or move, when the lifeboat .approached. With 
the exception of Bax and Bluenose, they were all so 
thoroughly exhausted as to have become comparatively 
indifferent to, and therefore ignorant of, all that was 
going on around them. All their energies were required 
to enable them simply to retain their position on the 
rigging. At first the sight of the rockets from the light- 
ship, and her lanterns gleaming in the far distance, had 
aroused feelings of hope ; but as hour after hour passed 
away, the most of the unhappy people fell into a sort of 
stupor or indifference, and the lights were no longer 
regarded with hopeful looks. 

When the lugger came towards them and anchored 
outside the Sands, it was so dark that none but sharp 
eyes could make her out through the blinding spray. 
Bax and Bluenose descried her, but both of them were 
so well aware of the impossibility of a large boat ventur- 
ing among the shoals and breakers that they tacitly 
resolved not to acquaint their comrades with its presence, 
lest they should raise false hopes, which, when disap- 
pointed, might plunge them into still deeper despair. 

Very different, however, were the feelings with which 
they beheld the approach of the lifeboat, which the prac- 
tised eye of Bax discerned long before she came alongside. 

“ The lifeboat ! ” said Bax sharply in the ear of Blue- 
nose, who was close beside him. “ Look ! am I right? ” 

“ So His, I do b’lieve,” cried the captain, staring in- 
tently in the direction indicated by his friend's out- 
stretched hand. 

“ Lifeboat ahoy ! ” shouted Bax, in a voice that rang 


80 


T II E LIFEBOAT. 


loud and strong above the whistling winds, like the blast 
of a brazen trumpet. 

“Wreck ahoy ! ” cried the cockswain of the boat ; and 
the cry, borne towards them by the gale, fell upon the 
ears of those on the mast like the voice of Hope shouting 
“Victory ! ” over the demon Despair. 

“ Cheer up, Lucy ! Ho ! comrades, look alive ; here 
comes the lifeboat ! ” 

Bax accompanied these words with active preparations 
for heaving a rope and otherwise facilitating their antici- 
pated escape. Guy was the first to respond to the cry. 
Having placed himself in a very exposed position, in 
order that his person might shelter Lucy Burton, he had 
been benumbed more thoroughly than his comrades ; but 
his blood was young, and it only wanted the call to 
action to restore him to the full use of his powers and 
faculties. Not so with the missionary. He had become 
almost insensible, and, but for the effort to protect his 
child which animated and sustained him, must certainly 
have fallen into the sea. Some of the men, too, were 
utterly helpless. Their stiffened hands, indeed, main- 
tained a death-like gripe of the ropes, but otherwise they 
were quite incapable of helping themselves. 

As for Lucy, she had been so well cared for and pro- 
tected from the bitter fury of the wind, that, although 
much exhausted, terrified, and shaken, she was neither 
so benumbed nor so helpless as some of her less fortu- 
nate companions. 

Presently the lifeboat was close on the lee side of the 
mast, and a cheer burst from her crew when they saw 
the number of survivors on the cross-trees. 

“ Look out ! ” cried the man in the bow of the boat, 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


SI 


as he swung a heavily-loaded stick round his head, and 
flung it over the mast. The light line attached to this 
was caught by Bax, aud by means of it a stout rope was 
drawn from the boat to the mast of the u Nancy,” and 
made fast. 

And now came the most dangerous and difficult part 
of the service. Besides the danger of the mast being 
broken by the violence of the increasing storm, and hurled 
upon the lifeboat, — an event which would have insured its 
destruction, — there was the risk of the boat herself being 
stove against the mast by the lashing waves which spun 
her on their white crests or ingulfed her in their black 
hollows, as if she had been a cork. The greatest care 
was therefore requisite in approaching the wreck ; and 
when this was accomplished, there still remained the diffi- 
culty of getting the exhausted crew into the boat. 

Had they all been young and strong, like Bax or Guy, 
they could have slid down the rope at the risk of nothing 
worse than a few bruises ; but with several of them this 
method of escape was impossible ; — with Lucy and her 
father it was, in any circumstances, out of the question. 
A block aud tackle were therefore quickly rigged up by 
Bluenose, by which they were lowered. 

Poor Lucy had not courage to make the attempt until 
one or two of the seamen had preceded her, it seemed so 
appalling to be swung off the mast into the black, raging 
chaos beneath her feet, where the lifeboat, shrouded par- 
tially in darkness and covered with driving spray, ap- 
peared to her more like a phantom than a reality. 

“ Come, Miss Lucy,” said Bax, tenderly, “ I’ll fasten 
the rope round myself, and be swung down with you in 
my arms.” 


82 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Lucy would not hear of this. “ No,” said she, firmly , 
tl I will conquer my silly fears ; here, put the rope round 
me.” 

At that moment a wave tossed the boat so high that it 
came up almost to the level of the masthead, and an in* 
voluntary cry rose from some of the men, who thought 
she must infallibly be dashed against it and upset. One 
of the men on the mast, seeing the boat at his very feet, 
made a sudden spring towards it ; but it plunged into the 
hollow of the passing wave, and missing his grasp, he 
fell with a wild shriek into the water. He was swept 
away instantly. This so unnerved Lucy that she almost 
fainted in her father’s arms. 

“ Come,” cried Bax, putting the end of the rope round 
his waist, “ we must not trifle thus.” 

u The rope won’t bear ye both,” said Bluenose. 
“ You’re too heavy, lad.” 

“ True,” interrupted Guy ; “ let me do it. I’m light, 
and strong enough.” 

Bax, at once admitting the force of the argument, un- 
did the rope without hesitation, and fastened it quickly 
round Guy’s waist. The latter seized Lucy in his arms, 
and in a moment they were both swinging in the air over 
the wild sea. 

Every incident in this thrilling scene now passed with 
the speed almost of thought. The boat rose under them. 
Bax at once let the rope run. Down they went ; but a 
swirl in the treacherous waves swept the boat two or 
three fathoms to leeward. Instantly they were both in 
the sea ; but Guy did not loosen his hold or lose his pres- 
ence of mind for a moment. Bax hauled on the rope, and 
raised him half out of the water for a few seconds ; the 


THE LIFEBOAT 


83 


boat made a wild sheer towards them, and the mission- 
ary uttered a cry of agony as he fancied his child was 
about to be run down, perhaps killed, before his eyes ; 
but the cry was transformed into a shout of joy and 
thanksgiving when he saw one of the lifeboat’s crew seize 
Guy by the hair, and another catch his daughter by a 
portion of her dress. They were quickly pulled into 
the boat. 

To save the remainder was now a matter of less diffi- 
culty. The missionary was the only one left on the mast 
who was not able, more or less, to take care of himself; 
but the joy consequent on seeing his daughter saved, in- 
fused new vigor into his frame. He and the. others were 
finally got off, Bax being the last to quit the wreck ; and 
then the lifeboat pulled away from the dangerous shoals, 
and made for the land. 

Finding it impossible to reach Broadstairs, owing to 
the direction of the gale, they pulled in an oblique direc- 
tion, and after narrowly escaping an upset more than 
once, gained Deal beach not far from Sandown Castle, 
where the boat was run ashore. 

Here there was a large concourse of boatmen and 
others awaiting them. The men in the lugger — seeing 
the lifeboat come up, and feeling that the storm was 
almost too much for them, and that their services were 
not now required — had returned to the shore and spread 
the news. 

The instant the lifeboat touched the shingle, a huge 
block and tackle were hooked on to her, the capstan con- 
nected with these was already manned, and the boat was 
run up high and dry with the crew in her. 

The cheers and congratulations that followed were 


84 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


checked, however, when the discovery was made that 
Guy Foster was lying in a state of insensibility ! 

When the boat sheered towards him and Lucy, as 
already described, he had seen the danger, and warded 
it away from the girl by turning his own person towards 
it. No one knew that he had been hurt. Indeed, he 
himself had scarcely felt the blow ; but a deep cut had 
been made in his head, which bled so copiously that he 
had lain down and gradually became insensible. 

His head was bandaged by Bluenose in a rough and 
ready fashion ; a couple of oars, with a sail rolled round 
them, were quickly procured, and on this he was borne 
off the beach, followed by his friends and a crowd of 
sympathizers. 

“Where to?” inquired one of the men who supported 
the litter. 

“ To Sandhill Cottage,” said Bax ; “ it’s his mother’s 
house, and about as near as any other place. Step 
out, lads ! ” 

Before they were off the beach the dull report of a 
cannon-shot was heard. It came from the lightship, and 
immediately after a rocket flew up, indicating by the 
direction in which it sloped, that another vessel was in 
distress on the shoals. 

All thought of those who had just been rescued was 
forgotten by the crew of the lifeboat. Those of them 
who had not been too much exhausted by previous toil 
and exposure, leaped into their seats. The places of 
those who were unable to go off again were instantly 
filled by eager boatmen. Dozens of stout arms thrust 
her — crew and all seated as they were — down into the 
lashing surf. There was a short, sharp struggle between 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


85 


the sturdy men and the heavy rollers, which threatened 
not only to swamp the boat, but to hurl her back, stem 
over stern, upon the shingle ; and in a few minutes more 
she was forcing her way through wind, and waves, and 
spray, on this her second errand of mercy that night, to 
the Goodwin Sands 
8 


CHAPTER VII. 


. “About a thousand ships are wrecked, and nearly a 
thousand lives are lost on the shores of this country every 
year” was still the burden of Mrs. Foster’s dreams, when 
she was aroused by a loud knocking at the door of her 
cottage, and the sound of confused voices and trampling 
of many feet outside. 

“ Ho, goodness gracious me, ma’am ! ” cried worthy 
Mrs. Laker, bursting into her mistress’s apartment — 
“ if here ain’t a thousand robbers as is come for to pil- 
lidge the ’ouse an’ trample down the garding. It’s from 
the hattic winder, I see ’em with the moon, if w’ant the 
lightenin’ a glanshin’ on their ’orrid faces as is never 
shaved nor washed ; and it’s bin my dream from the years 
of unsuspectious hinfancy, as is come for to pass now in 
the days of my womanhood, with dead bodies carryin’ 
too, w’ich is wuss. Ho ! dear, wot shall I do ? ” 

“Go and put on your clothes, while I open the door,” 
said Amy Russel, entering hastily at the moment, in a 
state of comparative dishabille, with a shawl thrown 
round her. “ Dear mamma, don’t be alarmed ; it must 
be a mistake. They cannot mean us any harm, I am 
certain. May I go and open the door?” 

“ Open the door ! ” shrieked Mrs. Laker, in the tone 
of one almost paralyzed by astonishment ; “ open the 
door to a thousand robbers, with swords, and guns, and 
blood, and dead bodies ! ” 

As Mrs. Laker was robed in her night-gown, and 
( 86 ) 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


87 


stood erect, with her arms extended and her hair dishev- 
elled, she looked dreadfully tragic and awful, while these 
fearful words flowed from her pale lips. 

“ Hush, Laker,” said Mrs. Foster, hastily throwing 
on her garments with trembling hands, while she made 
a strong effort to restrain her agitation ; “ go, dear Amy, 
and ask what they want ; but don’t open the door.” 

She followed Amy to the landing outside, leaving 
Mrs. Laker, glaring, in sceptical amazement, in the mid' 
die of the room. Presently Amy was heard down stairs, 
speaking through the key-hole. A man’s voice replied ; 
there was a suppressed scream, and immediately the 
outer door was unlocked, the chain removed, and the bolts 
withdrawn. This was followed by the heavy tramp of 
men in the passage below, and a wild shriek from Mrs. 
Foster. 

Mrs. Laker, still standing, with uplifted arms, in the 
middle of the bedroom, and livid with terror, glared 
round in search of a place of refuge, and gasped horribly. 
Her eye fell on the bed from which her mistress had 
issued. With a spring that would have done her credit 
in the days of her girlhood, she plunged into it, head 
first, and rolled herself tight up in the clothes, where she 
lay quaking and listening intently. 

“ It’s only a cut in the head, and a little blood, ma’am ; 
don’t be alarmed ; ” said the gruff voice of Bluenose, as 
the footsteps ascended the stair and approached the bed- 
room. 

“Cut” and “blood” were the only words in this 
speech which made any impression on poor Mrs. Laker, 
who trembled so violently that the curtains around her 

shook again. 


88 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


u Lay him in my bed,” said Mrs. Foster, in an 
agitated voice. 

“ W’y, the bed’s all alive — O ! ” exclaimed Bluenose, 
in surprise. 

“ O Laker ! what are you doing there ? Get out, 
quick.” 

“ Mercy, good men, mercy ; I — ” 

The sentence was cut short by a wild yell, as her eye 
fell on the pale and bloody face of Guy. She tumbled, 
clothes and all, over the side of the bed, in a dead faint, 
and rolled, in a confused white heap, to the very feet of 
her astounded brother, Captain Bluenose. 

“ Well, if this don’t beat Trafalgar all to sticks ! ” 
exclaimed the captain. 

“Come, attend to Guy,” said Bax, in a deep, com- 
manding voice. 

He lifted up Mrs. Laker and the bed-clothes as if she 
had been a large washing, and carried her down to her 
own apartment, — guided by Tommy Bogey, who knew 
the way, — where he placed her in bed, and left her to 
recover as she best might. 

Bax had taken the precaution to despatch a messenger 
for a doctor before they left the beach, so that Guy’s hurt 
was soon examined, dressed, and pronounced to be a 
mere trifle, which rest would heal in a few days. Indeed, 
Guy recovered consciousness soon after being brought 
into the cottage, and told his mother with his own lips 
that he was “ quite well.” This, and the doctor’s assur- 
ances, so relieved the good lady, that she at once trans- 
ferred much of her anxious care to the others who had 
been wrecked along with her son. 

Lucy was placed in the hands of the sympathetic Amy 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


89 


Russel, aud conducted by her to her own room, where 
she obtained dry clothing. As for the others, they dried 
themselves by the kitchen fire, which was stirred up vig- 
orously by the now restored and repentant Laker, who 
also busied herself in spreading a repast for the ship- 
wrecked men. Mrs. Foster did the same for a select 
few, whom she meant to entertain in the parlor. 

u Who is that handsome sailor,” said Amy, as she 
assisted Lucy Burton to dress ; 44 the one, I mean, who 
came up with Guy ? ” 

“ There were four who came up with Guy,” replied 
Lucy, smiling. 

44 True,” said Amy, blushing (she blushed easily), 
44 but I mean the very tall, dark man, with the black, 
curling hair.” 

44 Ah ! you mean the man who carried good Mrs. 
Laker down stairs in a bundle,” said Lucy, with a merry 
laugh. 

44 Yes,” cried Amy, echoing the laugh ; “ who is he? ” 

44 Why, you ought to know him,” said Lucy, with a 
look of surprise ; 44 he resides near you ; at least he was 
one of the boatmen of your own coast before he became 
captain of the ‘ Nancy.’ His name is- Bax.” 

4 4 Bax ! ” echoed Amy ; 44 is he Bax ? 0,1 know Bax 

well by name. He is a friend of Guy, and a celebrated 
man on this coast. He is sometimes called the Stormy 
Petrel, because he is always sure to be found on the 
beach in the wildest gales ; sometimes he is called the 
Life Preserver, on account of the many lives he has saved. 
Strange,” said Amy, musingly, 44 that I should have pic- 
tured him to myself so like what he turns out to be. He 
is my beau-ideal of a hero ! ” 

8 * 


90 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“ He is a hero,” said Lucy, with such sudden enthusi 
asm, that her new friend looked up in her face in surprise. 
“ You do not know,” continued Lucy, in some confusion, 
M that he saved my life not much more than twenty-four 
hours ago.” 

Amy expressed deep interest in this matter, and begged 
to hear all about it. Lucy, nothing loath, related the 
event circumstantially ; and Amy, gazing earnestly in 
her beautiful, animated countenance, sighed, and regarded 
her with an expression of sad interest, — also wuth feel- 
ings which she herself could not understand. 

“ But how comes it that you have never seen Bax 
till to-night ? ” inquired Lucy, when she had finished her 
narrative. 

u Because I have not been very long here,” said Amy, 
“ and Bax had ceased to dwell regularly on the coast 
about the time I was saved, and came to live with Mrs. 
Foster.” 

“ Saved ! — Mrs. Foster ! ” exclaimed Lucy. 

“ Yes ; Mrs. Foster is not my mother.” 

“And Guy is not your brother?” said Lucy, with a 
glance so quick and earnest, that Amy felt a little con- 
fused. 

“ No, he is not,” said she ; “ but he saved my life at 
the end of Ramsgate pier, and ever since then I have 
lived with his mother.” 

It was now Lucy’s turn to express deep interest. She 
begged to have the circumstances related to her ; and 
Amy, nothing loath, told her how Guy had plunged into 
the sea, when no one else observed her danger, and caught 
her just as she was sinking. 

As Amy told her story with animation, and spoke of 




THE LIFEBOAT. 


91 


Guy with sparkling eyes and a rich glow on her fair 
cheek, Lucy gazed at her with grave interest, and felt 
sensations in her breast which were quite new to her, and 
altogether incomprehensible. 

Three times had Mrs. Laker been sent to knock at 
Amy’s door, and inform the young ladies that supper 
awaited them, before they completed their toilet, and 
descended to the drawing-room. 

Laker called it supper, because she could not conscien- 
tiously give the name of breakfast to a meal extemporized 
about four o’clock in the morning ! 

Mr. Burton and Bluenose were already seated at the 
table, Bax stood near the fireplace bending down to Mrs. 
Foster, who was looking up in his face, shaking his hand, 
and thanking him, with tears in her eyes, for having 
saved her son’s life ! Bax was much perplexed by this 
view of the matter, taken and obstinately held to by the 
widow. 

“ Really, ma’am,” said he, with a deprecatory smile, 
“ you are mistaken, I assure you. I did not save 
Guy’s life — on the contrary, he saved mine this night ; 
for, if he had not jumped well to wind’ard with the line, 
and caught hold of the old foremast, where Tommy and I 
were perched like two birds — ” 

“ Ha,” interrupted Bluenose, bluntly, “ you’d both ’a 
bin in Davy Jones’ locker by this time ; for I see’d the 
old stick myself, not three minits arter, go by the board, 
like the stem of a ’baccy pipe.” 

It was just as Bluenose concluded this speech that the 
young ladies entered the room. 

“ Come,” cried Bax, turning quickly towards Lucy, 
who advanced first, u here is another witness to the fact. 


32 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Do try, Miss Burton, to convince Mrs. Foster that 1 
did not — ” 

Bax paused, for his glance fell at that moment on 
Amy Russell, whom he had not observed in the confusion 
of their first appearance in the cottage. 

“ My adopted daughter,” said Mrs. Foster, taking 
Amy by the hand and leading her forward ; “-shake 
hands with Mr. Bax, darling, who has saved Guy’s life 
to-night.” 

Bax held Amy’s white little hand for one moment as 
tenderly as if he were afraid his own iron muscles might 
injure it. 

“ I see,” said he, with a smile* u that 1 must submit to 
be misrepresented until Guy himself comes to defend me.” 

Amy glanced at Lucy and blushed. Lucy glanced at 
Amy and looked confused ; then the whole party laughed, 
and Bluenose said that for his part he didn’t see no savin’ 
o’ life one way or other, ’xcepting as regarded the life- 
boat, which he was bound for to say had saved the whole 
lot of ’em, and that was all about it ; whereupon they 
all sat down to supper, and the missionary asked a bless- 
ing, thanking God for their recent deliverance, and pray- 
ing in a few earnest words for continued favor. 

Bluenose was a man of peculiar and decided character, 
lie did not at all relish his position in the drawing-room 
when he thought of his sister, Mrs. Laker, supping in 
the kitchen. Being an impulsive man, he seized his cap, 
and said abruptly to his hostess, 

“ I’ll tell ’ee wot it is, marm, I ain’t used to this ’ere 
sort o’ thing. If you’ll excudge me, marm, I’ll go an’ 
’ave my snack with Bess i’ the kitchen. Bax, there, he’s 
a sort o’ gen’leman by natur’ as well as hedication ; but 


THE L TFEBOAT. 


93 


as for me, I’m free to say as I prefers the fo’gs’l to the 
cabin — no offence meant. Come along, Tommy, and 
bring yer pannikin along with ’ee, lad ; you’re like a fish 
out o’ water too.” 

So saying, Captain Bluenose bowed to the company 
with what he meant to be an affable and apologetic air, 
and quitted the room without waiting for a reply. 

“ Ah, Bluenose,” said Mrs. Laker, as her brother 
entered, cap in hand, and seated himself among the men 
of the “Nancy,” who were doing full justice to Mrs. 
Foster’s hospitality, “ I thought ye wouldn’t be long in 
the parlor, for you ain’t bin used to ’igh life, an’ w’y 
should you ? as was born of poor but respectible parients, 
not but that the parients of the rich may be respectible 
also, I don’t go for to impinge no one, sit down, Tommy, 
my dear child, only think ! ’ee’s bin ’alf drownded, and 
’is mother dead only two year next Whitsuntide ; sit 
down, Tommy, wot’ll ye ’ave?” 

Tommy said he would have a bit of beafsteak pie ; — 
got it, and set to work immediately. 

It may be as well to state here that Mrs. Laker was 
not a married woman ; but, having reached a certain 
ao-e, she deemed it advisable, in order to maintain the 
dignity of her character aud personal appearance (which 
latter was stout and matronly) to dub herself Mrs . — 
Laker being her maiden name. This statement involve! 
a further explanation, inasmuch as it establishes the fact 
that Bluenose ought, in simple justice and propriety, to 
have gone by the name of Laker also. 

But on the beach of Deal justice and propriety in 
regard to names are not necessarily held in great re- 
pute. At least they were not so a few years ago. 


94 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Smuggling, as has been said, was rather prevalent in 
days gone by. Indeed, the man who was not a smuggler 
was an exception to the rule, if such a man ever existed. 
During their night expeditions, boatmen were often under 
the necessity of addressing each other in hoarse whispers, 
at times and in circumstances when coast-guard ears were 
uncommonly acute. Hence, in order to prevent incon- 
venient recognition, the men were wont to give each 
other nicknames, which nicknames descended frequently 
to their offspring. 

The father of Captain Bluenose and of Mrs. Laker 
had been a notorious scamp about the beginning of this 
century, at which period Deal may be said to have been 
in full swing in regard to smuggling and the French war. 
The old smuggler was uncommonly well acquainted with 
the towns of Calais, Gravelines, Dunkerque, Nieuport, 
and Ostende — notwithstanding that they lay in the 
enemy’s country. He had also eiiough of bad French 
to enable him to carry on his business, and was addicted 
to French brandy. It was the latter circumstance which 
turned his nose purple ; procuring for him, as well as 
entailing on his son, the name of Bluenose, a name 
which our captain certainly did not deserve, seeing that 
his nose was fiery red in color, — perhaps a little too fat 
to be styled classic, but, on the whole, a most respecta- 
ble nose. 

Few of the boatmen of Deal went by their right 
names ; but such sobriquets as Doey, Jack Onion, 
Skys’lyard Dick, Mackerel, Trappy, Rodney Nick, Su- 
garplum, etc., were common enough. Perchance they 
are not obsolete at the present day ! 

While the crew of the “ Nancy ” were making merry 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


95 


in the kitchen, the parlor bell rang violently, and Laker 
disappeared from the scene. 

“ You’re wanted, Tommy, darling,” said the worthy 
woman, returning promptly. 

Tommy rose, and was ushered into the parlor. 

“ Little boy,” said Mrs. Foster, “ my son Guy has 
sent a message ^requiring your attendance. I tried to 
prevent him seeing you ; but he insists on it. Come, I 
will take you to his room. You must try, child, and not 
encourage him to talk. It will be bad for him, I fear.” 

“ Leave us, mother, dear,” said Guy, as they entered ; 
w I wish fa be alone with Tommy, only for ten minutes — 
not longer.” 

Mrs. Foster tried to remonstrate, but an impatient 
gesture from her son induced her to quit the room. 

“ You can write, Tommy? ” 

“ Yes, sir. I — I hope you ain’t much hurt, sir.” 

“O, no ! — a mere scratch. It’s only the loss of 
blood that weakens me. I’ll be all right in a few days. 
Now, sit down at that table and take a pen. Are you 
ready ? ” 

Tommy said that he was, and Guy Foster dictated the 
following note to Mr. Denham, of the house of Denham, 
Crumps, and Co. : — 

“Deal. 

“ Dear Uncle : I’m sorry to have to inform you 
that the ‘ Nancy’ has become a total wreck on the Good- 
win Sands. The cargo has been entirely lost; also two 
of the hands. 

“ I am at present disabled, from the effects of a blow 
on the head received during the storm. No doubt Bax 
will be up immediately to give you particulars. 


96 


T II E LIFEBOAT. 


“ The cause of the loss of your schooner wa5> in my 
opinion, unseaworthiness of vessel and stores. 

“ Your affectionate nephew, 

“ Guy Foster.” 


“ Hallo ! ” thought Tommy, u that’s a stinger ! ” 

“ There,” said Guy, as he attached his signature 
“ fold and address that, and be off with it as fast as you 
can to the post.” 

Tommy vanished in an instant, and was quickly at the 
post-office, which stood, at that time, near the centre of 
the town. He dropped the letter in, and having thus ful- 
filled his mission, relapsed into that easy swagger, or roll, 
that seems to be the natural and characteristic gait of 
Jack when ashore. He had not proceeded far when the 
sound of voices in dispute attracted his ear. The gale was 
still at its height, and the noise occasioned by its whistling 
among the chimneys and whirling round street corners 
was so great, that the words uttered by the speakers were 
not distinguishable. Still there was some peculiarity in 
the tone which irresistibly attratffed the boy. Perhaps 
Tommy was unusually curious that night ; perhaps he 
was smitten, like Haroun Alraschid, with a desire for 
adventure ; but whatever was the truth in regard to this, 
it is certain that, instead of passing on, as most people 
would naturally have done, Tommy approached the place 
whence the sounds proceeded with cautious steps — keep- 
ing as much in the shade of the houses as possible, 
although, owing to the darkness of the night, this latter 
precaution was unnecessary. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


On turning the corner of one of those houses on the 
beach of Deal which stand so close to the sea that in 
many cases they occupy common ground with the boats, 
Tommy found himself suddenly close to a group of men, 
one of whom, a very tall man, was addressing the others 
in an excited tone. 

“ I’ll tell ’ee wot it is, lads ; let’s put ’im in a sack an’ 
leave ’im in the Great Chapel Field * to cool hisself.” 

“ Sarve him right, the beggar,” said another man, with 
a low laugh ; “ he’s spoilt our game many a night. What 
say, boys ? heave ’im shoulder ’igh ? ” 

The proposal was unanimously agreed to, and the 
party went towards an object which lay recumbent on 
the ground, near to one of those large capstans which 
are used on this part of the Kentish coast to haul up the 
boats. The object turned out to be a man, bound hand 
and foot, and with a handkerchief tied round the mouth 
to insure silence. Tommy was so near that he had no 
difficulty in recognizing in this unfortunate the person of 
old Coleman, the member of the coast-guard who had 
been most successful in thwarting the plans of the smug- 
glers for some years past. Rendered somewhat desperate 
by his prying disposition, they had seized him on this 
particular night, during a scuffle, and were now about to 
dispose of him in a time-honored way. 

* The “ Great Chapel Field ” was the name formerly applied by th« 
boatmen to St. George’s Churchyard. 

9 


( 97 ) 


98 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Tommy also discovered that the coast-guardman's cap- 
tors were Long Orrick, Rodney Nick, and a few more 
of his boatmen acquaintances. He watched them with 
much interest as they enveloped Coleman’s burly figure 
in a huge sack, tied it over his head, and, raising him on 
their shoulders, bore him away. 

Tommy followed at a safe distance ; but he soon 
stopped, observing that two of the party had fallen be- 
hind the rest, engaged apparently in earnest conversation. 
They stood still a few minutes under the lee of a low- 
roofed cottage. Tommy crept as close to them as possi- 
ble, and listened. 

u Come, Rodney Nick,” said one of the two, whose 
height proclaimed him to be Long Orrick ; “a feller 
can’t talk in the teeth o’ sich a gale as this. Let’s stand 
in the lee o’ this old place here, and I’ll tell ye in two 
minits wot I wants to do. You see that old sinner 
Jeph refuses pint-blank to let me use his ‘ hide ; ’ he’s 
become such a hypocrite that he says he won’t encourage 
smugglin’.” 

“ Well, wot then? ” inquired Rodney Nick. 

“ W’y, I means to make ’im give in,” returned Long 
Orrick. 

u An’ s’pose he won’t give in ? ” suggested Rodney. 

w Then I’ll cut his throat,” replied Orrick, fiercely. 

“ Then I’ll have nothing to do with it.” 

“ Stop ! ” cried the other, seizing his comrade by the 
arm as he was turning to go away. “ A feller might as 
well try to joke with a jackass as with you. In coorse 
I don’t mean that ; but I’ll threaten the old hypocrite, 
and terrify him till he’s half dead, and then he’ll 
give in.” 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


99 

“ He’s a frail old man,” said Rodney ; “ suppose he 
should die with fright ? ” 

“ Then let him die ! ” retorted Long Orrick. 
u Humph ; and s’pose he can’t be terrified? ” 
u O, get along with yer s’posin’. Will ye go or will 
ye not? that’s the question, as Shukspere’s ghost said to 
the Hemperer o’ Sweden.” 

“ Just you an’ me?” inquired Rodney. 

“ Ain’t we enough for an old man ? ” 

“ More nor enough,” replied Rodney, with a touch 
of sarcasm in his tone, “ if the old boy haiu’t got friends 
with him. Don’t ye think Bax might have took a fancy 
to spend the night there ? ” 

“ No,” said Long Orrick ; “ Bax is at supper in Sand- 
hill Cottage, and he ain’t the man to leave good quarters 
in a hurry. But if yer afraid, we’ll go with our chums 
to the churchyard, and take them along with us.” 

Rodney Nick laughed contemptuously, but made no 
reply, and the two immediately set off at a run to over- 
take their comrades. Tommy Bogey followed as close 
on their heels as he prudently could. They reached the 
walls of St. George’s Church, or the “ Great Chapel,” 
almost at the same moment with the rest of the party. 

The form of the old church could be dimly seen against 
the tempestuous sky as the smugglers halted under the 
lee of the churchyard wall like a band of black ghosts 
that had come to lay one of their defunct comrades, on a 
congenial night. 

At the north end of the burying-ground of St. George’s 
Church there is a spot of ground which is pointed out to 
visitors as being the last resting-place of hundreds of the 
unfortunate men who fell in the sea-fights of our last 


100 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


war with France, f A deep and broad trench was dug 
right across the churchyard, and here the gallant tars 
were laid in ghastly rows, as close together as they could 
be packed. Near to this spot stands the tomb of one 
of Lord Nelson’s young officers, and beside it grows a 
tree against which Nelson is said to have leaned when 
he attended the funeral. 

It was just a few yards distant from this tree that the 
smugglers scaled the wall and lifted over the helpless 
body of poor Coleman. They did it expeditiously and 
in dead silence. Carrying him into the centre of the 
yard, they deposited the luckless coast-guardman flat on 
his back beside the tomb of George Philpot, a man who 
had done good service in his day and generation — if 
headstones are to be believed. The inscription, which 
may still be seen by the curious, runs thus : — 

“A TRIBUTE TO THE 
SKILL AND DETERMINED COURAGE 

-V 

OF THE BOATMEN OF DEAL, 

AND IN MEMORY OF 

GEORGE PHILPOT, 

WHO DIED MARCH 22, 1850. 

“ Full many lives he saved 
With his undaunted crew; 

He put his trust in Providence, 

And cared not how it blew.” 


In the companionship of such noble dead, the smug- 
glers left Coleman to his fate, and set off to finish their 
night’s work at old Jeph’s humble cottage. 

Tommy Bogey heard them chuckle as they passed the 
spot where he lay concealed behind a tombstone, and he 
was sorely tempted to spring up with an unearthly yell, 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


101 


well knowing that the superstitious boatmen would take 
him for one risen from the dead, and fly in abject terror 
from the spot ; but recollecting the importance of discre- 
tion in the work which now devolved on him, he pru- 
dently restrained himself. 

The instant they were over the wall Tommy was at 
Coleman’s side. He felt the poor man shudder, and 
heard him gasp as he cut the rope that tied up the mouth 
of the sack ; for Coleman knew well the spot to which they 
had conveyed him, and his face, when it became visible, 
was ghastly white and covered with a cold sweat caused 
by the belief that he was being opened out for examina- 
tion by some inquisitive but unearthly visitor. 

“ It’s only me,” said Tommy, with an involuntary 
laugh. “ Hold on ; I’ll set you free in no time.” 

“ Hah ! ” coughed Coleman when the kerchief was 
removed from his mouth, “ wot a ’orrible sensation it is 
to be choked alive ! ” 

“ It would be worse to be choked dead,” said Tommy. 

u Cut the lines at my feet first, lad,” said Coleman ; 
“ they’ve a’most sawed through my ankle bones. There, 
that’s it now ; help me to git up an’ shake myself.” 

A few minutes elapsed before he recovered the full use 
of his benumbed limbs. During this period, the boy re- 
lated all he had heard, and urged his companion to “ look 
alive.” But Coleman required no urging. The moment 
he became aware of what was going on, he felt for his cut- 
lass, which the smugglers had not taken the trouble to 
remove, and, slapping Tommy on the back, stumbled 
among the tombs and over the graves towards the wall, 
which he vaulted with a degree of activity that might 
have rendered a young man envious. Tommy followed 
9 * 


102 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


like a squirrel, and in a very few minutes more they 
were close at the heels of Long Orrick and his friends. 

While they hurried on in silence and with cautious 
tread, Coleman matured his plans. It was absolutely 
necessary that the utmost circumspection should be used, 
for a man and a boy could not hope to succeed in cap- 
turing six strong men. 

Run, Tommy, to the beach, and fetch a friend or 
two. There are sure to be two of the guard within 
hail.” 

Tommy was off, as he himself would have said, like 
a shot, and on gaining the beach almost ran into the 
arms of a young coast-guardman named Supple Rodger, 
to whom he breathlessly told his tale. 

“ Stop ; I’ll call out the guard,” said Rodger, drawing 
a pistol from the breast-pocket of his overcoat. But 
Tommy prevented him, explained that it was very desi- 
rable to catch the villains in the very act of breaking into 
old Jeph’s cottage, and hurried him away. 

At the back of the cottage they found Coleman calmly 
observing the proceedings of the smugglers, one of whom 
was calling in a hoarse whisper through the* key-hole. 
Apparently he received no reply, for he swore angrily a 
good deal, and said to his comrades more than once, 
“ I do b’lieve the old sinner’s dead.” # 

“ Come, I’ll burst in the door,” said the voice of Long 
Orrick, savagely. 

The words were followed by a crash ; and the tram- 
pling of feet in the passage proved that the slender fasten- 
ings of the door had given way. 

“ Now, lads,” cried Coleman, “ have at ’em ! ” 

He struck a species of port-fire, or bluelight, against 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


103 


the wall as lie spoke ; it sprang into a bright flame, and 
the three friends rushed into the cottage. 

The smugglers did not wait to receive them. Burst- 
ing the fastenings of the front window, Long Orrick 
leaped out into the street. Supple Rodger dashed aside 
the man who was about to follow, and leaped after him like 
an avenging spirit. All the men but two were over the 
window before Coleman gained it. He seized the man 
who was in the act of leaping by the collar, but the 
treacherous garment gave way, and in a moment the 
smuggler was gone, leaving only a rag in Coleman’s 
grasp. 

Meanwhile Tommy flung himself down in front of the 
only man who now remained, as he made a dash for the 
window. The result was, that the man tumbled over the 
boy and fell to the ground. Having accomplished this 
feat, Tommy leaped up and sprang through the window, 
to aid in the chase. As the smuggler rose, the disappointed 
Coleman turned round, flourished the rag in the air with 
a shout of defiance, and hit his opponent between the 
eyes with such force as to lay him a second time flat on 
the floor. A fierce struggle now ensued, during which 
the light was extinguished. The alarmed neighbors 
found them there, a few minutes later, writhing in each 
other’s arms, and punching each other’s heads desperate- 
ly ; Coleman, however, being uppermost. 

When Tommy Bogey leaped over the window, as has 
been described, all the smugglers had disappeared, and 
he was at a loss what to do ; but the faint sound of quick 
steps at the north end of the street led him to run at the 
top of his speed in that direction. Tommy was singu- 
larly fleet of foot. He ran so fast on this occasion that 


104 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


he reached the end of the street before the fugitive had 
turned into the next one. He saw distinctly that two 
men were running before him, and, concluding that they 
were Long Orrick and Supple Rodger, he did his best to 
keep them in view. 

Long Orrick and his pursuer were well matched as to 
speed. Both were good runners ; but the former was 
much the stronger man. Counting on this, he headed for 
the wild expanse of waste ground lying to the north of 
Deal, already mentioned as the Sandhills. 

Here he knew there would be no one to interfere 
between him and his antagonist. 

Tommy Bogey thought of this, too, as he sped along, 
and wondered not a little at the temerity of Supple Rod- 
ger in thus, as it were, placing himself in the power of 
his enemy. He chuckled, however, as he ran, at the 
thought of .being there to render him assistance to the 
best of his power. “ Ha ! ” thought he, u for Long Orrick 
to wollop Supple Rodger out on the Sandhills is one 
thing ; but for Long Orrick to wollop Supple Rodger 
with me dancin’ round him like a big wasp is quite 
another thing ! ” 

Tommy came, as he thought thus, upon an open space 
of ground, on which were strewn spare anchors and chain 
cables Tumbling over a fluke of one of the former, he 
fell to the earth with a shock that well nigh drove all the 
wind out of his stout little body. He was up in a mo- 
ment, however, and off* again. 

Soon the three were coursing over the downs like 
hares. It was difficult running, for the ground was un- 
dulating and broken, besides being covered, in a few 
places, with gorse, and the wind and rain beat so fiercely 
on their faces as almost to blind them. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


105 


About a mile or so beyond the ruins of Sandown Castta 
there is an old inn, called the u Checkers of the Hope,” 
or the “ Checkers,” named after, it is said, and corrupted 
from “ Chaucer’s Inn ” at Canterbury. It stands in the 
midst of the solitary waste ; a sort of half-way house 
between the towns of Sandwich and Deal ; far removed 
from either, however, and quite beyond earshot of any hu- 
man dwelling. This — so says report — was a celebrated 
resort of smugglers in days gone by, and of men of the 
worst character ; and, as one looks at the irregular old 
building standing, one might almost say, unreasonably, 
in that wild place, one cannot help feeling that it must 
have been the scene of many a savage revelry and many 
a deed of darkness in what are sometime^ styled “ the 
good old times.” 

Some distance beyond this, farther into the midst of 
the Sandhills, there is a solitary tombstone ; well known, 
both by tradition and by the inscription upon it, as 
“ Mary Bax’s Tomb.” 

Here Long Orrick resolved to make a stand ; know- 
ing that no shout that Rodger might give vent to could 
reach the Checkers in the teeth of such a gale. 

The tale connected with poor Mary Bax is brief and 
very sad. She lived about the end of the last century, 
and was a young and beautiful girl. Having occasion to 
visit Deal, she set out one evening on her solitary walk 
across the bleak Sandhills. Here she was met by a 
brutal foreign seaman, a Lascar, who had deserted from 
one of the ships then lying in the Downs. This monster 
murdered the poor girl, and threw her body into a ditch 
that lies close to the° spot on which her tomb now stands. 
The deed, as may well be supposed, created great excite- 


106 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


ment in Deal and the neighborhood ; for Mary Bax, 
being young, beautiful, and innocent, was well known 
and much loved. 

There was, at the time this murder was perpetrated, a 
youth named John Winter, who was a devoted admirer 
of poor Mary. He was much younger than she, being 
only seventeen, while she was twenty-three. He became 
almost mad when he heard of the murder. A little 
brother of John Winter, named David, happened to be 
going to the Checkers’ Inn at the time the murder was 
committed, and witnessed it. He ran instantly to his 
brother to tell him what he had seen. It was chiefly 
through the exertions of these two that the murderer was 
finally brought to justice. 

John Winter rested neither night nor day until he 
tracked the Lascar down, and David identified him. He 
was hanged on a gallows erected close to the spot where 
he had murdered his innocent victim. On the exact spot 
where the murder took place Mary’s grave was dug, and a 
tombstone was put up, which may be seen there at the 
present time, with the following inscription upon it : — 

ON THIS SPOT 
AUGUST THE 25TH, 1782, 

MARY BAX, Spinster, 

AGED 23 YEARS, 

WAS MURDERED BY 

MARTIN LASH, a Foreigner, 

WHO WAS EXECUTED FOR THE SAME. 

Poor John Winter left the country immediately after^ 
and did not return until thirty years had elapsed, when 
the event was forgotten, and most of his old friends and 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


107 


companions were dead or gone abroad. His little broth- 
er David was drowned at sea. 

This Mary Bax was cousin to the father of John Bax, 
who figures so conspicuously in our tale. 

At the tomb of Mary Bax, then, as we have said, Long 
Orrick resolved to make a stand. Tommy Bogey had, 
by taking a short cut round a piece of marshy ground, 
succeeded in getting a little in advance of Orrick, and, 
observing that he was running straight towards the tomb- 
stone, he leaped into the ditch, the water in which was 
not deep at the time, and coursing along the edge of it, 
reached the rear of the tomb, and hid himself there, with- 
out having formed any definite idea as to what course he 
meant to pursue. 

Whatever the intentions of the smuggler were, they 
were effectually frustrated by an apparition which sud- 
denly appeared and struck terror alike to the heart of 
pursuer and pursued. As Long Orrick approached the 
tomb, there suddenly arose from the earth a tall, gaunt 
figure, with silver hair streaming wildly in the gale. To 
Tommy, who crouched behind the tomb, and Rodger and 
Orrick, who approached in front, it seemed as if the 
spirit of the murdered girl had leaped out of the grave. 
The effect on all three was electrical. Orrick and 
Rodger, diverging right and left, fled like the wind in 
opposite directions, and were out of sight in a few sec- 
onds, while Tommy, crouching on the ground behind the 
tomb, trembled in abject terror. 

The spirit, if such it was, did not attempt to pursue 
the fugitives, but turning fiercely towards the boy, seized 
him by the collar and shook him. 

“ O, mercy, mercy ! ” cried poor Tommy, whose heart 
quaked within him. 


108 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“ Hallo ! Tommy Bogey, is it you, boy ? ” said the 
spirit, releasing the lad from a grasp that was anything 
but gentle. 

“What ! old Jepli, can it be you ? ” exclaimed Tommy, 
in a tone of intense surprise, as he seated himself on the 
tombstone, and wiped the cold perspiration from his fore- 
head with the cuff of his coat. 

“Ay, it is me,” replied the old man, sadly, “although 
I do sometimes doubt my own existence. It ain’t often 
that I’m interrupted — but what brings ye here, lad, and 
who were these that I saw running like foul fiends across 
the Sandhills on such a night as this ? ” 

“ They were Supple Rodger and Long Orrick,” replied 
Tommy, “and a foul fiend is one of ’em, any how, as 
you’d have found out, old Jeph, if ye’d bin at home this 
ev’nin’. As for bein’ out on sich a night as this, it seems 
to me ye hain’t got much more sense to boast of in this 
respect than I have. You’ll ketch yer death o’ cold, old 
man.” 

“ Old man ! ” echoed Jeph, with a peculiar chuckle. 
“ Ha ! yes, I am an old man, and I’ve been used to such 
nights since I was a young man. But come away, lad ; 
I’ll go home with ye now.” 

Old Jeph took the boy’s hand, as he said this, and the 
two went over the moor together — slowly, for the way 
was rough and broken, and silently, for the howling of 
the gale rendered converse almost impossible. 

It is not to be supposed that Tommy Bogey had 
such command over himself, however, as altogether to re 
strain his curiosity. He did make one or two attempts 
to induce old Jeph to explain why he was out in such a 
stormy night, and on such a lonely spot ; but the old man 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


109 


refused to be communicative, and finally put a stop to the 
subject, by telling Tommy to let other people’s business 
alone, and asking him how it happened that Long Orrick 
came to make an attempt on his house, and how it was 
he failed. 

Tommy related all he knew with alacrity, and for a 
time secured old Jeph’s attention, as was plain from the 
way in which he chuckled when he heard how his enemy 
had been outwitted ; but gradually the narrative fell on 
uninterested ears, and before they regained the town the 
old man’s countenance had become grave and sad, and 
his mind was evidently wandering among the lights — 
mayhap among the shadows — of “ other days.” 

10 


CHAPTER IX. 


Mr. Denham stood in front of his office fire with a 
coat-tail, as usual, under each arm ; his feet planted on 
two little roses that grew on each side of a large bouquet 
which flourished perennially on his rug, and his eyes fixed 
on the ceiling. He had just arrived at Redwharf Lane, 
and looked quite fresh and ruddy from the exercise of 
walking, for Denham was a great walker, and frequently 
did the distance between his house and his office on foot. 

Mr. Crumps sat shivering in his own room, looking 
the reverse of ruddy, for Crumps was old, and his blood 
was thin, and there was no fire in his room. It is but 
justice to say, however, that this was no fault of Den- 
ham’s, for the apartment of his junior partner did not 
possess a fireplace, and it could not be expected that a fire 
should be lighted, a la Red Indian, on the middle of the 
floor. At all events Crumps did not expect it. He was 
not, therefore, liable to disappointment in his expectations. 
He contented himself, poor old man, with such genial 
gusts of second-hand warmth as burst in upon him from 
time to time from Denham’s room, when the door was 
open, or poured in upon him in ameliorating rivulets 
through the key-hole, like a little gulf-stream, when the 
door was shut. 

u The letters, sir,” said Peekins, the meek blue tiger 
in buttons, entering at that moment and laying a pile of 
letters on the table. 

Had Peekins been a little dog without a soul, capable 
( 110 ) 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Ill 


of wagging his tail and fawning, Denham wCuld have 
patted him ; but, being only a boy in blue with a meek 
spirit, the great man paid no attention to him whatever. 
He continued to gaze at the ceiling as if he were reading 
his destiny there. Perhaps he would have looked as 
blank as the ceiling had he known what that destiny was 
to be ; but he did not know, fortunately (or unfortunately 
if the reader chooses) ; hence he turned with a calm, un- 
disturbed countenance to peruse his letters after the boy 
had retired. 

We do not say that Denham was a hard man ; by no 
means ; he was only peculiar in his views of things in 
general ; that was all ! 

For some time Denham broke seals, read contents, and 
made jottings, without any expression whatever on his 
countenance. Presently he took up an ill-folded epistle 
addressed to 44 Mister Denham ” in a round and rather 
rugged hand. 

44 Begging,” he muttered, with a slight frown. 

“ * Dear Uncle * (“ eh ! ” he exclaimed, — turned over 
the leaf in surprise, read the signature, and turned back 
to the beginning again, with the least possible tinge of 
surprise still remaining), 4 I’m sorry ’ (“ humph ! ”) 4 to 
have to inform you that the 44 Nancy” has become a total 
wreck ’ (“ indeed ! ”) 4 on the Goodwin Sands.’ (“ Amaz- 
ing sands these. What a quantity of wealth they have 
swallowed up ! ”) 4 The cargo has been entirely lost ’ 

( 4t ah ! it was insured to its full value”), 4 also two of the 
hands.’ ( 44 H’m, their lives wouldn’t be insured. These 
rough creatures never do insure their lives ; wonderfully 
improvident ! ”) 4 1 am at present disabled, from the 

effects of a blow on the head received during the storm.' 


112 


Tiiii LIFEBOAT. 


(“ Very awkward ; particularly so just now.”) 4 No 
doubt Bax will be up immediately to give you particu- 
lars/ (“ Humph ! ”) 

“ ‘ The cause of the loss of your schooner was, in my 
opinion (Mr. Denham’s eyebrows here rose in contempt- 
uous surprise), unseaworthiness of vessel and stores.’” 

Mr. Denham made no comment on this part of the 
epistle. A dark frown settled on his brow as he crumpled 
the letter in his hand, dropped it on the ground as if it 
had been a loathsome creature, and set his foot on it. 

Denham was uncommonly gruff and forbidding all that 
day. He spoke harshly to old Mr. Crumps ; found fault 
with the clerks to such an extent that they began to re- 
gard the office as a species of Pandemonium which ought 
to have smelt sulphureous instead of musty, and ren- 
dered the life of Peekins so insupportable that the poor 
boy occupied his few moments of leisure in speculating 
on the average duration of human life, and wondering 
whether it would not be better, on the whole, to make 
himself an exception to the general rule by leaping off 
London Bridge at high water — blue tights, buttons, 
and all ! 

Things continued in this felicitous condition in the 
office until five in the afternoon, when there was a change, 
not so much in the moral as in the physical atmosphere. 
It came in $>e form of a thick fog, which rolled down 
the crooked places of Redwharf Lane, poured through 
key-holes, curled round the cranes on the warehouses, and 
the old anchors, cables, and buoys in the lumber-yards ; 
travelled over the mud-flats, and crept out upon the mud- 
dy river among the colliers, rendering light things in- 
distinct, black things blacker, dark places darker, and 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


113 


affording such an opportunity for unrestrained enjoyment 
to the rats, that these creatures held an absolute carnival 
everywhere. 

About this period of the day Mr. Denham rose, put on 
his hat and great-coat, and prepared to go. Peekins 
observed this through a private scratch in the glass door, 
and signalized the gladsome news in dumb show to his 
comrades. Hope at once took the place of despair in 
the office, for lads and very young men are happily fur- 
nished with extremely elastic spirits. The impulse of 
joy caused by the prospect of Denham’s departure was 
so strong in the breast of one youth, with red hair, a red 
nose, red cheeks, large red lips, blue eyes, and red hands 
(Ruggles by name), that he incontinently seized a sheet 
of blotting-paper, crumpled it into a ball, and flung it at 
the head of the youngest clerk, a dark little boy, who sat 
opposite to him on a tall stool, and who, being a new boy, 
was copying letters, painfully but diligently, with a heavy 
heart. 

The missile was well aimed. It hit the new boy ex- 
actly on the point of the nose, causing him to start, and 
prolong the tail of ay an inch and a quarter beyond its 
natural limits. 

This little incident would not have been worth mention- 
ing, but for the fact that it was the hinge — so to speak — on 
which incidents of a more important nature turned. Mr. 
Denham happened to open his door just as the missile 
was discharged, and saw the result, though not the 
thrower. He had no difficulty, however, in discovering 
the offender ; for each of the other clerks looked at their 
comrade in virtuous horror, as though to say, “ O, how 
could you? — please, sir, it wasn’t me, it was him;* 
10 * 


114 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


while Ruggles applied himself to his work with an ail 
of abstraction, and a face of scarlet that said plainly, 
“ It’s of no use staring in that fashion at me, for I’m as 
innocent as the unborn babe.” 

Denham frowned portentously, and that peculiarly dead 
calm which usually precedes the bursting of a storm pre- 
vailed in the office. Before the storm burst, however 
the outer door was opened hastily, and our friend Bax 
stood in the room. He was somewhat dishevelled in 
appearance, as if he had travelled fast. To the clerks 
in that small office he appeared more fierce and gigantic 
than usual. Peekins regarded him with undisguised ad- 
miration, and wondered in his heart if Jack the Giant- 
Killer would have dared to encounter such a being, sup- 
posing him to have had the chance. 

“ I’m glad I am not too late to find you here, sir,” 
said Bax, pulling off his hat and bowing slightly to his 
employer. 

“ Humph ! ” ejaculated Denham ; “ step this way.” 

They entered the inner office, and, the door being 
shut, Ruggles internally blessed Bax, and breathed 
freely. Under the influence of reaction he even looked 
defiant. 

“ So you have lost your schooner,” began Denham, 
sitting down in his chair of state, and eying the seaman 
sternly. Bax returned the gaze so much more sternly 
that Denham felt disconcerted, but did not allow his feel- 
ings to betray themselves. 

“The schooner has been lost,” said Bax, “ and I am 
here to report the fact, and to present these letters, one 
from the seamen’s missionary at Ramsgate, the other 
from your nephew, both of which will show you that no 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


115 


blame attaches to me. I regret the loss, deeply, but it 
was un — ” 

Bax was going to have said unavoidable, but he felt 
that the expression would have been incorrect, and 
stopped. 

“ Finish your remark,” said Denham. 

“ I merely wished to say that it was out of my power 
to prevent it.” 

u O ! ” interjected Denham, sarcastically, as he read 
the letters. “ The seamen’s missionary is one of whom 
I know nothing. His opinion, therefore, carries no 
weight. As to my nephew, his remarks are simply un- 
worthy of notice. But you say that no blame attaches 
to you. To whom, then, does blame attach, if not to the 
skipper of the vessel ? Do you mean to lay it at the door 
of Providence?” 

“ No, sir, I do not,” replied Bax. 

“ Have you, then, the presumption to insinuate that it 
lies with me ? ” 

Bax was silent. 

“ Am I to expect an answer? ” said Denham. 

“ I make no insinuations,” said Bax, after a short 
pause ; u I do but state facts. If the ‘ Nancy’ had been 
fitted with a new tops’l-yard and jib-boom, as I advised 
last summer, I would have carried her safe into the 
Downs.” 

c * So,” said Denham, in a tone of increasing sarcasm, 
* you have the hardihood to insinuate that it was my 
fault? ” 

Bax reddened with indignation at the tone of insult in 
which these words were uttered. His bass voice grew 
deeper and sterner as he said, — 


116 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


44 If you insist "on plain speaking, sir, you shall have 
it. I do think the blame of the loss of the 4 Nancy* lies 
at your door, and worse than that, the loss of two human 
lives lies there also. There was not a sound timber or a 
seaworthy article aboard of the schooner from stem to 
stern. You know well enough that I have told you this, 
— in more civil language it may be, — again and again ; 
and I hope that the telling of it now, flatly, will induce 
you to consider the immense responsibility that lies on 
your shoulders ; for there are other ships belonging to 
your firm in much the same condition — ships with infe- 
rior charts and instruments, unsound spars, not enough 
of boats, and with anchors and chains scarce powerful 
enough to hold a Deal lugger in a moderate gale.” 

Mr. Denham was not prepared for this sudden and 
wholesale condemnation of himself and his property. 
He gazed at the seaman’s flushed countenance for a few 
seconds in mute surprise. At last he recovered self- 
possession, and said, in a calm voice, — 

44 You applied last year, if I remember rightly, for the 
situation of mate aboard our ship the 4 Trident,’ — now 
on her second voyage from Australia ? ** 

44 1 did,” said Bax, shortly, not knowing how to take 
this sudden change of subject. 

44 Do you suppose,” said Denham, with a peculiar curl 
of his lip, 44 that this interview will tend to improve your 
chance of obtaining that situation ? ” 

Denham put the question with the full expectation of 
humbling Bax, and with the further intention of follow- 
ing up his reply with the assurance that there was much 
greater probability of the moon being turned into green 
cheese than of his promotion taking place ; but his 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


117 


intentions were frustrated by Bax starting, and in a voice 
of indignation exclaiming, — 

u Sir, do you suppose I have come here to beg? If 
you were to offer me the command of the 4 Trident/ or 
any other ship that you possess, I would refuse it with 
scorn. It is bad enough to risk one’s life in the rotten 
craft you send to sea ; but that would be nothing com- 
pared with the shame of serving a house that thinks only 
of gain, and holds human life cheaper than the dirt I tread 
under my feet. No, sir ; I came here to explain how the 
4 Nancy’ was lost. Having done so, I take my leave.” 

44 Stay,” said Denham, as Bax turned to go. 44 Perhaps 
you will do me one more service before we part. Will 
you kindly inform my nephew that he need not be in a 
hurry to come back here ? I extend his leave. He may 
continue to absent himself as long as he pleases — to all 
eternity if it suits him.” 

Mr. Denham flushed up with anger as he said the last 
words. Bax, without deigning a reply, turned on his 
heel and strode out of the room, slamming the glass door 
behind him with such violence that every panel in it was 
shivered to atoms ! He wheeled round and reentered 
the room. Denham grew pale, supposing that the roused 
giant was about to assault him ; but Bax only pointed to 
the door, and said, sternly, — 

44 Part of the wages due me will pay for that. You 
can keep the balance, and buy yourself a Bible with it.” 

Next moment he was gone, and Peekins stood staring 
at his master through the shattered door, trembling from 
head to foot. Immediately afterwards Denham took his 
hat and stick, and passed through the office. Pausing 
at the door, he looked back : — 


118 


THE LIJEBOAT. 


“ Ruggles.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ There are five or six foreign letters in my desk for 
to-morrow’s post. Copy them out to-night. See that 
you do it to-night. Peekins will remain with you, and 
lock up after you have done.” 

Ruggles, who knew that this involved work till near 
midnight, humbly replied, “Yes, sir.” 

Having thus secured the misery of at least two hu- 
man beings, Denham went home, somewhat relieved, 
to dinner. 

Bax, unconsciously, but naturally, followed his ex- 
ample. He also went to dinner ; but, having no home 
in that quarter, he went to the “ Three Jolly Tars,” and 
found the landlord quite willing to supply all his wants 
on the shortest possible notice, namely, three quarters of 
an hour. 

In a snug box of that celebrated place of entertainment 
he found Tommy Bogey (whom he had brought with 
him) awaiting his appearance. The precocious youth 
was deeply immersed in a three-days-old copy of The 
Times. 

“ Hallo ! Bax, you’ve been sharp about it,” said 
Tommy, laying down the paper and pulling a little black 
pipe out of his pocket, which he proceeded coolly and 
quietly to fill, just as if he had been a bearded and gray- 
headed tar ; for Tommy, being a worshipper of Bax, imi- 
tated, as all worshippers do, the bad as well as the goo A. 
qualities of his hero, ignorant of, as well as indifferent 
to, the fact, that it would have been more noble to imitate 
the good and avoid the bad. 

“ Ay, we’ve settled it all slick off in no time,” said 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


119 

Bax, sitting down beside his young companion, and 
proceeding also to fill his pipe. 

“ An’ wot about the widders and horphans? ” inquired 
Tommy, beginning to smoke, and using his extremely 
little finger as a tobacco-stopper, in a way that might 
have surprised a salamander. 

“ The widows ! ” exclaimed Bax. 

“Ay, the widders — also the horphans,” repeated 
Tommy, with a grave nod of the head. “ I ’ope he’s 
come down ’andsome.” 

“ Tommy,” said Bax, with a disconcerted look, “ I’ve 
forgot ’em altogether ! ” 

“ Forgot ’em ? Bax ! ” 

“ It’s a. fact,” said Bax, with much humility ; “ but 
the truth is, that we got to loggerheads, an’ of course 
you know it was out of the question to talk on such 
a ^subject when we were in that state.” 

“ In course it was,” said Tommy. “ But it’s a pity.” 

The fact was, that Bax had intended to make an appeal 
to Mr. Denham in behalf of the widows and children of 
the poor men who had been drowned on the night when 
the “Nancy” was wrecked; but the unexpected turn 
which the conversation took had driven that subject ut- 
terly out of his mind. 

“ Well, Tommy, it can’t be helped now ; and, after 
all, I don’t think the widows will come by any loss by 
my forgetfulness ; for certain am I that Denham would as 
soon supply a best bower anchor to the ‘ Trident,’ as give 
a sovereign to these poor people.” 

Bax and his young friend here relapsed into a state of 
silent fumigation, from which they were aroused by the 
entrance of dinner. This meal consisted of beafsteaks 


120 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


and porter. But it is due to Bax to say that he advised 
his companion to confine his potations to water, which 
his companion willingly agreed to, as he would have 
done had Bax advised him to drink buttermilk, or cider, 
or to go without drink altogether. 

They were about done with dinner, when a weak, small 
voice in the passage attracted their attention. 

“ Is there one of the name of Bax ’ere ? ” said the 
meek voice. 

“ Here I am,” shouted Bax ; “ come in. What d’ye 
want with me ? ” 

Peekins entered in a state of great agitation. 

“ O, sir, please, sir, — I’ll never do it again ; but I 
couldn’t help it indeed, indeed — I was dyin’, I was. 
It’s a great sin I knows, but — ” 

Here Peekins burst into tears, and sat down on the 
seat opposite. 

“Wot a green ’un!” muttered Tommy, as he gazed 
at the tiger in blue through a volume of tobacco smoke. 

“What’s the matter, boy?” inquired Bax, in some 
surprise ; “ anything wrong at Redwharf Lane?” 

“ Ye-es ; that’s to say, not exactly, only I’ve run’d 
away.” 

“ You hain’t run far, then,” said Bax, smiling ; “ how 
long is’t since you ran away ? ” 

“ Just ten minutes.” 

Tommy burst into a laugh at this, and Peekins, feeling 
somewhat relieved/ smiled idiotically through his tears. 

“Well, now, my lad,” said Bax, leaning .forward in 
a confidential way which quite won the affection of the 
tiger, and patting him on the shoulder, “ I would advise 
you strongly to go back.” 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


121 


“ O, sir, but I can’t,” said Peekins, dolefully. “ I 
dursn’t. My life is miserable there. Mr. Denham is so 
’ard on me that I feels like to die every time I sees *im. 
It ain’t o’ no use : ” here Peekins became wildly desperate : 
“ I won’t go back ; ’cause if I do I’m sure to die slow ; 
an’ I’d rather die quick at once, and be done with it.” 

Bax opened his veyes very-wide at this. It revealed a 
state of -things that he had*never before imagined. Tom- 
my Bogey puffed so large a cloud that his face was quite 
concealed by it, and muttered, u You air a rum un’ ! ” 

“ Where d’ye stop, boy?” inquired Bax. 

“ In lodgin’s in Fenchurch Street.” 

“ D’ye owe ’em anything at the office?” 

“No, nothin’ ; they owes me -seventeen and six.” 

“ D’ye want it very much ? ” 

“ O, no; I don’t mind that, bless ye,” said Peekins, 
earnestly. 

“ What d’ye mean to do ? ” inquired Bax. 

“ Go with you- 1 - to sea,” replied the tiger, promptly. 

“ But I’m not going to sea.” 

“ Then I’ll go with you wherever you. please. I like 
you,” said the boy, springing suddenly to his side, and 
grasping his hand ; “ I’ve no one in the world to care 
for but-you. I never heard any one speak like, you. If 
you’ll only let me be your servant, I’ll go with you to the 
end of the world, and— sand — ” 

Here poor Peekins was again overcome. 

“ Brayyo / ” shouted Tommy Bogey, in admiration. 
“ You’re not such a bad fellow, after all.” 

“ Poor boy,” said Bax, stroking the tiger’s head, “ you 
are willing to trust too easily to a weak and broken reed. 
But come, I’ll take you to the coast. Better to go there, 
11 


122 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


after all, than stop with such a tender-hearted Christian 
as Mr. Denham. Here, take a bit of dinner.” 

Having tasted no food since breakfast, Peekins gladly 
accepted the invitation, and ate heartily of the remnants 
of the meal, to the great satisfaction of his companions, 
especially of Tommy, who regarded him as one might 
regard a pet canary or rabbit, which requires to be fed 
plenteously and handled with extreme gentleness and 
care. 


CHAPTER X. 


On a calm, soft, beautiful evening, about a week after 
the events narrated in the last chapter, Guy Foster issued 
from Sandhill Cottage, and, took his way towards the 
beach of Deal. 

It was one of those inexpressibly sweet, motionless 
evenings, in which one is inclined, if in ordinary health, 
to rejoice in one’s existence, and in which the Christian 
is led irresistibly to join with the Psalmist in praising 
God “ for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to 
the children of men.” 

Young Foster’s thoughts ran for a considerable time 
in this latter channel ; for he was one of those youthful 
Christians whose love to our Saviour does not easily grow 
cold. He was wont to read the Bible as if he really 
believed it to be the Word of God, and acted in accord- 
ance with its precepts with a degree of bold simplicity 
and truthfulness that made him a laughing-stock to some, 
and a subject of surprise and admiration to others, of 
his companions and acquaintance. In short, he was a 
Christian of a. cheerful, straightforward stamp. 

Yet Guy’s course was not all sunshine, neither was 
his conduct altogether immaculate. He was not exempt 
from the general rule, that u through much tribulation” 
men shall enter into the kingdom. As he walked along, 
rejoicing in his existence and in the beauty of that mag- 
nificent evening, a cloud would rise occasionally and call 
forth a sigh, as he recollected the polite intimation of hii 

( 123 ) 


124 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


uncle, that he had extended his leave of absence ad in* 
Jinitum / He could not -shut his eyes to the fact that a 
brilliant mercantile career, on which he had recently 
entered, and on which he might naturally look as the 
course cut out for him by Providence, was suddenly closed 
against him forever. He knew his uncle’s temper too 
well to expect that he would relent, and he felt that to 
retract a statement which he knew to be true, or to ex- 
press regret for having boldly told the truth as he had 
done, was ■ out of the question. Besides, he was well 
aware that such a course would not now avail to restore 
him to his lost position. It remained, therefore, that, 
being without influential friends, he must begin over 
again, and carve his own way in the world. 

But what then? Was this not the lot of hundreds of 
thousands ? Little time had been lost ; he was young, 
and strong, and^hearty. God had written, “ Commit thy 
way unto the Lord, trust also in him, and he shall bring 
it to pass.” “Whatever thy hand findeth to do, do it 
with thy might, as unto the Lord, and not unto men.” 
Under the influence of such thoughts the clouds cleared 
away from Guy’s brow, and he raised his eyes, which for 
some minutes had been cast down, with a hopeful gaze to 
the heavens. 

There he soon became lost in admiration of the clouds 
that were floating in masses of amber and gold ; rising 
over each other — piled up, mass upon mass — grotesque 
sometimes in form, solid, yet soft, in aspect, and inexpres- 
sibly grand, as a whole, in their towering magnificence. 

There were signs, however, among the gorgeous beau- 
ties of this cloud-land, that were significant to eyes accus- 
tomed to read the face of the sky. Various Turid and 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


125 


luminous clouds of gray and Indian-red hues told of 
approaching storm, and the men of Deal knew that the 
sea, which just then pictured every cloud in its glassy 
depths as clearly as if there had been another cloud-laud 
below its surface, would, ere long, be ruffled with a stiff- 
ish breeze — perhaps be tossed by a heady gale. 

Men in general are not prone to meditate very deeply 
on what is going on around them beyond the reach of 
their own vision. This is natural and right to some 
extent. If we were to be deeply touched by the joys, 
sorrows, calamities, and incidents that at all times affect 
humanity, we should cease to enjoy existence. Life 
would become a burden. The end of our creation 
would not be attained. Yet there is an evil of an oppo- 
site kind which often mars our usefulness, and makes 
us unconsciously participators in acts of injustice. This 
evil is, partial ignorance of, and indifference to, much 
that goes on around us beyond the range of our vision, 
but which, nevertheless, claims our attention and regard. 

Every one who reflects will admit that it is pleasant to 
think, when we retire to rest, that a splendid system of 
police renders our home a place of safety, and that, 
although there are villains more than enough who would 
do their best to get at our purses and plate, we need not 
make ourselves uneasy so long as the stout guardians of 
the night are on the beat. Do we not congratulate our- 
selves on this ? and do we not pay the police-tax without 
grumbling, or at least with less grumbling than we vent* 
when paying other taxes ? 

Should it, good reader, be less a subject of pleasant 
contemplation that, when the midnight storm threatens 
to burst upon our shores, there are men abroad who are 

11 * 


126 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


skilled in the perilous work of snatching its prey from 
the raging sea ; that, when the howling gale rattles our 
windows, aud shakes our very walls, inducing us, per- 
chance, to utter the mental prayer, “ God have mercy on 
all who are on the sea this night,” that then — at that 
very time — the heroes of our coast are abroad all round 
the kingdom ; strong in the possession of dauntless hearts 
. and iron frames, and ready to plunge at any moment into 
the foaming sea to the rescue of life or property ? 

Who can say, during any storm, that he may not be 
personally interested in the efforts of those heroes? 

We knew a family, the members of which, like those 
of all the other families in the land, listened to the howl- 
ing of that fearful storm which covered our shores with 
wrecks on the 25th cf November, 1859. Their thoughts 
were sad and anxious, as must be the case, more or less, 
with all who reflect that in such nights hundreds of hu- 
man beings are certainly perishing on our shores. But 
ah ! what would the feelings of that family have been, 
had they known, as they soon came to know, that two 
stalwart brothers of their own went down that night 
among the four hundred and fifty human beings who per- 
ished in the wreck of the “ Royal Charter ” ? 

In regard to the “ Royal Charter,” it may be truly said 
that there was no necessity for the loss of that vessel. 
God did not send direct destruction upon her. The en- 
gines were too weak to work her off the land in the face 
of the gale, and the cables could not hold her. These 
were among the causes of her loss. And when she did 
get ashore, every life might have been saved had there 
a lifeboat or rocket apparatus at hand. We know 
not why there was neither ; but may it not have been 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


127 


because lifeboats and rockets are not sufficiently numerous 
all along our shores ? How many bleeding hearts there 
were that would have given drops of their life-blood to 
have provided the means of saving life on the coast of 
Anglesea on that terrible, night ! A few small- coins 
given at an earlier date might have saved those lives! 
No individual in the land, however far removed from the 
coast, can claim exemption from the dangers of the^Sea. 
His own head may indeed lie safe from the raging bil- 
low ; but at any moment the sea may grasp some loved 
one, and thus wreck his peace of mind, or ingulf his 
property and wreck his fortune. Why, then, should not 
the whole nation take the affairs of the coast nearer to 
its heart? TheXifeboat Institution is not supported by 
taxation, like our police force. It depends on the charity 
of the people. Don’t you think, reader, that itites a 
strong claim on the sympathies, the prayers, ajd the 
purse of every living. soul in the kingdom? But to re- 
turn, with many apologies, from this digression. 

Guy Foster noted the peculiar appearance of the clouds, 
and concluded that u something was brewing.” All along 
the shores stout men in glazed and tarry garments noted 
the same appearances, and alsojponcluded that it would 
be dirty weather before long. The, lifeboat men, too, 
were on the qui vive ; and, doubtless, the cockswain of 
each boat, from John o’ Groat’s to the. Land’s-end, was 
overhauling his charge to see that all was right and in 
readiness for instant service. 

“ It’s going to blow to-night, Bax,” said Guy, on enter- 
ing the hovel of the former. 

“ So ’tis,” replied Bax, who was standing beside his 
friends Bluenose and Tommy Bogey, watching old J^ph, 
as he busied himself with the_model of hisjifeboat. ■ 


128 


THE LIFEBO A T 


Jeph said that in his opinion it was going to be a reg- 
ular nor’-easter, and Bluenose intimated his adherence to 
the same opinion, with a slap on his thigh, and a huge 
puff of smoke. 

“ You’re long about that boat, Jeph,” said Bluenose, 
after a pause, during which he had scanned the horizon 
with a telescope. 

“ So I am. It ain’t easy to carry out the notion.” 

“ An’ wot may the .notion be ? ” inquired Bluenose, 
sitting down on a coil of rope, and gazing earnestly at 
the old man. 

“ To get lifeboats to right themselves w’en they’re up- 
set,” replied. Jeph, regarding his. model with a look of 
perplexity. “ You see it’s all very well to have ’em filled 
with air-chambers, which prevents ’em from sinkin’ ; but 
w’en they’re upset, d’ye see, they ain’t <£.no use till they 
gets on their keels again ; and that ain’t easy to~manage.' 
Now I’ve bin thinkin’ that if we was to give ’em more 
sheer, and raise the stem and stern a bit, they’d turn 
over natural-like, of their own accord.” 

“ I do believe they would,” said Bax ; u why, what put 
that into yer head, old man ? ” 

“ Well, it ain’t altogether my own notion,” said Jeph, 
“ for I’ve heard, when I was in the port o’ Leith, many 
years ago, that a clergyman o’ the name of Bremer had 
made a boat o’ this sort in the year 1792, that answered 
very well ; but, somehow or other, it never -came to any- 
thing. There’s nothin’ that puzzles me so much as that,” 
said the old man, looking up with a wondering-expres- 
sion of countenance. “ I don’t understand how, w’en a 
good thing is found out, it ain’t made the most of at once / 
I never, could discover exactly what Mr. Bremer’s plan 
was ; so I’m tryin’ to invent one.” 






THE LIFEBOAT. 


129 


As he said this, Jeph placed the model on which he 
was engaged in a small tub of water which stood at his 
elbow. Guy, who was much interested in the old man’s 
idea, bent over him to observe the result of the experi- 
ment. Tommy Bogey sat down beside the tub as eagerly 
as if he expected some wonderful transformation to take 
place. Bax and Bluenose also looked on with unusual 
interest, as if they felt that a crisis in the experimental 
labors of their old comrade had arrived. 

“ It floats first rate on an even keel,” cried Tommy, 
with a pleased look, as the. miniature boat moved slowly 
round its little ocean ; u now then, capsize it.” 

Old Jeph quietly put his finger on the side of the little 
boat, and turned it upside down. Instead of remaining 
in that position, it rolled over on one side so much that 
the onlookers fully expected to see it right itself, and 
Tommy gave vent to a premature cheer ; but he cut it 
suddenly short on observing that the boat remained on its 
side, with one of the gunwales immersed, unable to attain 
an even keel in consequence of the weight of water inside 
of it. 

“ I tell ye wot it is, Jeph,” said Bluenose, with empha- 
sis, “ you’ll doit yet ; if you don’t I’ll eat my sou’-wester 
without sauce, ^o I will. As the noospapers says, you’ll 
if^j§&rate L sL new era in lifeboats, old boy, that’s a fact, 
and I’ll live to see it too ! ” 

Having delivered himself of this opinion in tones of 
much fervor, the captain delivered his mouth of a series 
of cloudlets, and gazed through them at his old friend 
with unfeigned admiration. 

Guy and Bax were both impressed with the partial 
success of the experiment, as well as with Jepli’s idea, 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


130 

anil said to him, encouragingly, that he had very near 
hit it ; but Jeph himself only shook his head, and smiled 
sadly. 

“ Lads,” said he, “ very near is sometimes a long way 
farther off than folk suppose. Perpetual motion has bin 
very nearly discovered ever since men began to try their 
hands at engineerin’, but it ain’t discovered yet, nor never 
will be — cause why? it ain’t possible.” 

u Ain’t poss’ble ! ” echoed Bluenose ; “ you’re out there, 
old man. I diskivered it, years ago. Just you go up 
to Sandhill Cottage, and inquire for one Mrs. Laker, a 
hupright and justifiable sister o’ mine. Open that ’ooman’s 
mouth an’ look in (she won’t bite if ye don’t bother her 
too much), and lyin’ in that there cavern ye’ll see a thing 
called a tongue , — if that ain’t an engine of perpetooal 
motion, shiver my timbers ! that’s all.” 

Just as the captain made this reckless offer to sacri- 
fice his timbers, Peekins — formerly the blue tiger — 
entered the hovel, and going hastily to Bluenose, whis- 
pered in his ear. 

A very remarkable transformation had taken place in 
the outward man of poor Peekins. After coming with 
Bax to Deal, he had been adopted, as it were, by the co- 
partners of the hovel, and was — so to speak — shared 
equally by Bax, Bluenose, old Jeph, and Tommy. The 
wonderfully thin and spider-like appearance which he 
presented in his blue tights and buttons on his arrival, 
created such a howl of derisive astonishment among the 
semi-nautical boys of Deal, that his friends became 
heartily ashamed of him. Bax, therefore, walked him 
off at once to a slop-shop, where sea-stores of every 
possible or conceivable kind could be purchased at reason 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


131 


able prices, from a cotton kerchief, with the Union Jack 
in the middle of it, to the old anchor of a seventy-four 
gun ship, with a wooden stock big enough to make a 
canoe. 

Here Peekins was disrobed of his old garments, and 
clad in canvas trousers, pilot-cloth jacket and vest, with 
capacious pockets, and a sou’-wester ; all of which fitted 
him so loosely that he felt persuaded in his own mind he 
could easily have jumped out of them with an upward 
bound, or have slipped out of them downwards through 
either leg of the pantaloons. He went into that store a 
blue spider ; he came out a reasonable looking seafaring 
boy, rather narrow and sloping about the shoulders, it is 
true, but smart enough and baggy enough — especially 
about the nether garments — to please even Bax, who, 
in such matters, was rather fastidious. 

The whispered communication, above referred to, had 
the effect of causing Bluenose to spring up from the coil 
of rope, and exclaim, — 

“ You don’t say so ! ” • 

Then, checking himself, and looking mysterious, he 
,Jaid he wanted to have a word with Bax in private, and 
would be obligated if he’d go with him a bit along 
shore. 

“Well, what’s the news?” inquired Bax, when they 
were alone. 

“ We’ve heerd of Long Orrick,” said Bluenose, 
eagerly. 

“ That’s amt much mews,” said Bax ; “ you told me 
there wasn’t, enough witnesses to swear to him, or some- 
thing o’ that sort, and that it would be no use attempting 
to put him in limbo, didn’t you ? ” 


132 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“ Ay,” replied the other, striking his clinched right 
hand into the palm of his left, “ but the villain don’t the 
less desarve to be tied up, and get twelve dozen, for all 
that. I’d content myself with knocking out both his 
daylights for his cowardly attempt to badger an old man, 
but that wouldn’t be safe ; besides, I know’d well enough 
he’d take to smugglin’ again, an’ soon give us a chance 
to nab him at his old tricks ; so Coleman and I have 
been keepin’ a lookout on him ; and we’ve found that 
small yard o’ pump-water, Peekins, oncommon clever in 
the way o’ watchin’. He’s just brought me word that 
he heard Long Orrick talkin’ with his chum, Rodney 
Nick, an’ plannin’ to run their lugger to-night into 
Pegwell Bay, as the coast at the Fiddler’s Cave would 
be too well watched ; so I’m goin’ down to Fiddler’s 
Cave to-night, and I wants you to go with me. We’ll 
get Coleman to help us, for he’s savage to get hold of 
Long Orrick ever since the night they put him in a sack, 
an’ left him to air his timbers in the Great Chapel 
Field.” 

“ But if,” said Bax, “ Long Orrick said he would run 
to Pegwell Bay, which is three or four miles to the 
nor’ard o’ this, and resolved that he would not go to 
Fiddler’s Cave, which is six miles to the s’uth’ard, why 
should you go to the very place he’s not likely to be 
found at?” 

“ Because I knows the man,” replied Bluenose, with 
a wink of deep meaning ; “ I knows Letter than you do. 
W’en Long Orrick is seen bearin’ away due north with 
flyin’ colors, you may take your Davy that his true 
course lies south, or thereby.” 

Bax smiled, and suggested that they should take Guy 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


133 


Foster with them ; and when Tommy Bogey heard what 
they were about, he volunteered his services, which were 
accepted laughingly. Being of a sociable disposition, 
Tommy deemed it prudent to press Peekins into the ser- 
vice, and Peekins, albeit not pugnacious by nature, was 
quite willing and ready to follow wherever his sturdy 
little friend chose to lead. 

So they all set off, along the road that skirts the beach, 
towards St. Margaret’s Bay. The sun was just sinking 
as they started, and the red clouds were beginning to 
deepen in their color and look ominous, though the sea 
was still quiet and clear, like a sheet of glass. 

After following the road for some time, they diverged 
into the footpath that lead's to, and winds along the giddy 
edge of, the chalk cliffs which rise abruptly from the 
shore at this part of the Kentish coast to the height of 
several hundred feet. 

The path being narrow, they were obliged to walk in 
single file, Bax leading, Bluenose and Guy following, 
and Tommy with his meek friend bringing up the rear. 

The view seawards was indescribably magnificent 
from the elevated ridge along which they hastened. The 
Downs was crowded with hundreds of vessels of every 
form and size, as well as of every country, all waiting for 
a favorable breeze to enable them to quit the roadstead 
and put to sea. Pilot luggers and other shore boats of 
various kinds were moving about among these ; some on 
the lookout for employment, others intent on doing a 
stroke of business in the smuggling way, if convenient. 
Far away along the beach, men of the coast-guard might 
be seen, like little black specks, with telescopes actively 
employed, ready to pounce on and overhaul (more or less 
12 


134 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


stringently according to circumstances) every boat that 
touched the shingle. Everything in nature seemed silent 
and motionless, with the exception of the sea-mews that 
wheeled round the summits of the cliffs or dived into the 
glassy sea. 

All these things were noted and appreciated in various 
degrees by the members of the party who hastened 
towards St. Margaret’s Bay, but .none of them com- 
mented much on the scenery. They were too well ac- 
customed to the face of nature in every varying mood 
to be much struck with her face on the present occasion. 
Perhaps we may except Guy Foster, who, being more 
of a city man than his companions, besides being more 
highly educated, was more deeply impressed by what he 
saw that, evening. But Guy was too much absorbed by 
the object of the expedition to venture any remark on 
the beautiful aspect of. nature. 

“ D’ye see that lugger, Bax? ” said Bluenose, pointing 
to a particular spot on the sea. 

“Between the Yankee and the Frenchman?” said 
Bax ; “I see it well enough. What then ? ” 

“ That’s Long Orrick’s boat,” replied the captain ; 
“ I’d know it among a thousand. Depend on it .we’ll 
nab him to-night with a rich cargo of baccy and brandy 
a-board. The two B’s are too much for him. He’d sell 
liis soul for baccy and brandy.” 

“ That’s not such an uncommon weakness as you seem 
to think,” observed Guy. “ Every day men sell their 
souls for more worthless things.” 

“ D’ye think so ? ” said Bluenose, with a philosophical 
twist in his eyebrows. 

“I know it,” returned Guy; “men often sell both 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


135 


body and soul (as far as we can judge) for a mere 
idea.” 

Here Bax, who had been examining the lugger in 
question with a pocket telescope, said that he had no 
doubt whatever. Bluenose was right, and hastened forward 
at a smarter pace than before. 

In less than two hours they descended the steep cliffs 
to the shingle of St. Margaret’s Bay ; and at the same 
time the wind began to rise, while the shades of night 
gradually overspread the scene. 

St. Margaret’s Bay is one of those small, quiet, se- 
cluded hamlets which are not unfrequently met with 
along our coasts, and in regard to which the stranger is 
irresistibly led to ask mentally, if not really, “ Why did 
people ever come to build cottages and dwell here, and 
what do they do? How do they make a livelihood?” 

No stranger ever obtains a satisfactory answer to these 
questions, for the very good reason that, short though they 
be, the answers to them would involve almost a volume, 
or a speech equal in length to that with which the Chan- 
cellor of the Exchequer introduces his annual budget. 
There would be various classes to describe, numerous 
wants to apprehend, peculiar circumstances and condi- 
tions of social life to explain ; in short, the thing is a 
mystery to many, and we merely remark on the fact, 
without having any intention of attempting to clear the 
mystery away. 

So narrow is the strip of shingle that lies between the 
sea and the cliffs in St. Margaret’s Bay, that the cot- 
tages have been built close up to the latter, — much too 
close, we venture to think, for safety ; but perhaps men 
who live in constant peril of their lives, count the addi- 


136 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


tional risk of being crushed along with their families 
under twenty or thirty tons of chalk, unworthy of con- 
sideration. 

On descending to the beach the first thing our party 
saw was the burly figure of Coleman seated on his 
“ donkey ” by the “ sad sea waves.” 

It must not be supposed that the coast-guardman was 
literally astride of alive ass! tNo; his “donkey” was 
an exceedingly ingenious,. contrivance invented specially 
for the use of a class of men who, being human, cannot 
avoid becoming fatigued, — yet who, being sentinels, 
must not on any account whatever be permitted to en- 
courage sleep. 

The men of the coast-guard are subject to prolonged 
and frequent periods of watching, by night as well as by 
day ; hence they are liable to become wearied. It has 
been wisely considered that the most self-denying mortal 
alive will, when hard pressed, sit down on a rock or on 
the ground, if need be, just to relieve his legs a little. The 
same wise consideration has recalled the fact that when 
men do this they become helplessly incapable of resisting 
the drowsy god, and will assuredly go to sleep, against 
their will and their judgment. 

To meet this case, some truly great mind invented the 
“donkey.” This-contrivance is simply a stool with one 
leg. The top of the stool is not round, but oblong, and 
very small. A hole in the centre receives the solitai'y 
leg, which is attached to it by a piece of. cord, and can 
be pulled out when occasion . requires, and the machine 
thrown over the arm as one would throw a cloak or 
scarf. The beauty of the donkey is, that it forms an 
excellent seat on which a man can balance himself and 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


137 


rest with great comfort as long as he keeps awake ; but 
should he fall asleep, even for one instant, he infallibly 
comes to the ground with a shock so severe that he is 
quite certain to remain wakeful during the remainder 
of his vigil ! 

“ What, ho ! Coleman,” cried Bax, as he and his 
friends drew near, “ have you actually acquired the art 
of sleeping on a donkey ? ” 

Coleman rose, and turned round with a good-humored 
smile on his ruddy visage. \ 

“ Nay, not quite that,” said he, “ but the hiss of the 
waves is apt to dull the liearin’ a bit, an’ one don’t nat’- 
rally look for enemies from land’ard, d’ye see ? ” 

“ Mayhap not,” said Bluenose, taking a fresh quid of 
tobacco out of a brass box which he carried at all times 
in his waistcoat pocket ; “ but I expect an enemy from 
seaward to-night who’ll be oncommon glad to make your 
acquaintance, no doubt ! ” 

Here the captain chuckled, ingulfed his fresh quid, and 
proceeded to explain the nature of their errand. Having 
done so, he asked Coleman what he- thought of it. 

The worthy coast-guardman scratched his nose and 
stared at the shingle for some minutes before venturing 
to reply. 

“ I think,” said he at length, u that we’ll eook his goose 
to-night ; that’s wot it is.” 

Coleman paused, and looked thoughtfully at Bluenose. 
The captain nodded his head pleasantly, but said nothing, 
and Coleman proceeded : — 

“ He’ll come in with the flood-tide, no doubt, if the 
gale don’t drive him in sooner, an’ run ashore as near to 
the cave as possible ; but he’ll be scared away if he sees 
12 * 


138 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


anything like unusual watchin’ on the shore ; so you’d 
better get out o’ sight as fast as ye can, and keep there.” 

“ Don’t you think it would be as -well that you also 
should keep out of sight, and so leave the coast clear for 
him ? ” suggested Bax. 

“ Not so,” said Coleman, with a grin ; “ he’d see that 
I’d done it for an object. Long Orrick keeps his weather 
eye too wide open to be caught so easy as that comes to.” 

“ Well, but come up for half an hour, and have a glass 
of beer while we talk over the business,” said Bax. 

Coleman shook his head. “ Can’t quit my poet; be- 
sides, I don’t drink no beer.” 

“ Brayvo ! old feller,” cried Bluenose ; “ give us your 
flipper. Water, cold, forever ! say I, as the whale re- 
marked to the porpoise. But let’s go under the. lee o’ the 
boat-’ouse an’ talk it out, for we shan’t nab Long Orrick 
this night, if we doesn’t go at ’im like a cat at a mouse.” 

“ Just listen to that old codfish,” said Tommy Bogey 
to Peekins, “ takin’ credit to his-self for not drinkin’, 
though he smokes like a steam-tug, an’ chews like — 
like — I’m a Dutchman if I know what, unless it be like 
the bo’sun of a seventy-four gun ship.” 

“Do bo’suns of seventy-four gun ships chew very 
bad?” inquired Peekins. 

“ O ! don’t they ! ” exclaimed Tommy, opening his 
eyes very wide, and rounding his mouth so as to express 
his utter inability to convey any idea of the terrific pow- 
ers of bo’suns in that particular line. “But Bluenose 
beat’s ’em all. He’d chew oakum, I do believe, if he 
didn’t get baccy ; and yet he boasts of not drinkin’ ! 
Seems to me he’s just as bad as the rest of us.” 

“ D’you think so?” said Peekins, with a doubtful look; 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


139 


u don’t you .think the man who does only two nasty things 
is better off than the one that does three ? ” 

“ Nasty things ! ” exclaimed Tommy, in a tone of 
amazement. “ Don’t Bax drink and smoke, and d’ye 
think Ae’cZ do one or t’other if they was nasty ? Peekins, 
you small villain, as was a blue spider only a week since, 
if you ever talks of them things being nasty again, I’ll 
wop you ! ” 

“ You hear that, Bax?” said Guy Foster, who, being 
only a few paces ahead of the boys, had overheard the 
remark, spoken as it was in rather a loud key. 

Bax nodded his head, and smiled, but made no reply. 

It is but just to say that Tommy’s threat was uttered 
more than -half in jest. He would as soon have thought 
of “wopping” a little girl as of maltreating his meek 
companion. But Peekins was uncertain how to take his 
threat ; so, not being desirous of & wopping, he held his 
tongue, and humbly followed his comrades. 

The party walked for some time at the foot of the cliffs 
under the lee of a boat-house, engaged in earnest con- 
versation as to the best mode of proceeding in the medi- 
tated enterprise. It was evident to all of them that the 
hour for action could not now be far distant ; for the gale 
increased every moment ; the light on the South Fore- 
land was already sending its warning rays far and wide 
over the angry sea, whence the floating lights that mark 
the sands sent back their nightly greeting, while dark 
thunderous clouds mantled over the sky and deepened 
the shades of night, which, ere long, completely over* 
^spread land and sea. 


CHAPTER XI 


The Fiddler’s Cave, alias Canterbury Cave, alias the 
Smugglers’ Cave, is a cavern of unknown extent, situated 
under the high chalk cliffs at the southern extremity of 
St. Margaret’s Bay. 

Tradition informs us that its first appellation was be- 
stowed in consequence of a fiddler having gone into it 
with his dog many years ago, and never having come 
out again. Four days afterwards the dog crept out in a 
dying condition. It is supposed that the man must have 
wandered too far into the cavern, and been overpowered 
by foul air. Tradition also says that there is a passage 
from it under ground, all the way to Canterbury, a dis- 
tance of eighteen miles; hence its.- second name. No 
one, however, seems to have verified this report. The 
Kentish smugglers, from whom the cave derives its last 
title, have undoubtedly made much use of it in days of 
old. At the period of our story, the entrance to Fid- 
dler’s Cave was so much- obstructed by rubbish and sand, 
that a man had to stoop low on entering the passage 
which led to the interior. At the present day the en- 
trance is so nearly closed up, that a man could not creep 
along it even on his hands and knees. 

Here, on the threatening-night of which we are writing, 
a boatman stood on the watch, close under the rocks 
that overhung the entrance to the cavern. The man was 
habited, like most of his brethren of the coast, in rough 
garments, with long boots, sou’-wester cap, and oiled, 
( 140 ) 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


141 


tarred, aud greased upper garments, suitable to the 
stormy night in which he had seen fit to hold his vigil. 

A feeble ray of light that struggled in the cavern 
showed that the man clutched a pistol in his right hand, 
and with a frown on his brow, glanced alternately out to 
sea, where all was darkness, and along shore, where the 
only visible living object was the figure of old Coleman 
seated on his “ donkey.” It need scarcely be added, that 
the sight of the coast-guardman was the cause of the 
smuggler’s frown. 

The gale was now blowing stiffly, and rolling black 
clouds so covered the sky that the moon was entirely 
obscured by them, save when an occasional break per- 
mitted a few rays to stream down and reveal the ele- 
mental strife that was going on below. 

Coleman, regardless of the storm, maintained his posi- 
tion on his one-legged companion, and bending his body 
to the blast, endeavored to pierce the gloom that en- 
shrouded everything seaward beyond the large breakers 
that sent their foam hissing up to his very feet. While 
he sat there, he thought, or muttered, thus : — 

“ It’s odd, now, I’d ha' thought he’d have run ashore 
afore this ; seem’ that I’ve sat on this here donkey for 
more nor an hour, a-purpose to let him see that I’m only 
watcliin’ here , and nowhere else. He can’t but see there’s 
a goodish lump o’ the coast free to him so long as I sit 
here. But he’s a sly feller ; p’raps he suspects somethin’. 
An’ yet I’ll go bound, he don’t guess that there’s six 
or seven of his worst enemies hidin’ all along the coast, 
with eyes like needles, and ears on full cock ! How’sever, 
it won’t do to sit much longer. If he don’t come in five 
minutes, I’ll git up an’ walk along in an easy, unsus- 


142 


T II E LIFEBOAT. 


pectin* way. Dear me, wot a set o* hypocrites we’ve got 
to be in the hexecution of our dooty ! ” 

While Coleman moralized thus, in utter ignorance of 
the near proximity of an eye-witness, the- smuggler at 
the mouth of the cave, who was no other than Orrick’s 
friend, Rodney Nick, muttered some remarks between 
his teeth which were by no means complimentary to the 
other. 

“ What are ye sittin’ there for, ye old idiot?” said he, 
savagely. “I do b’lieve ye’ve larned to sleep on the 
donkey. Ha ! there’s two of ye together, an’ the wooden 
one’s the best. Wouldn’t I just like to be yer leftenant, 
my hoy ? an’ I’d come to know why you don’t go on your 
beat. Why, there may be no end o’ cats and galleys 
takin’ the beach wi’ baccy an’ lush enough to smother 
you up alive, an’ you sittin’ there snuffin’ the east wind 
like an old ass, as ye are.” 

The smuggler uttered the last sentence in deep ex- 
asperation, for the time appointed for signalizing his 
comrades at sea had arrived, and yet that stolid coast- 
guardman sat there as if he had become fastened to the 
shingle. 

“ I’ve a good mind to run out an’ hit ye a crack over 
yer figure-head,” he continued, grasping his pistol ner- 
vously, aud'taking a step forward. “ Hallo ! one would 
a’most think you’d heard me speak,” he added, and 
shrank back, as. Coleman rose from his seat, — the five 
minutes having expired, and sauntered with a careless 
air straight towards the cave. 

On reaching it he paused and looked into it. Rodney 
Nick crouched in the shadow of a projecting rock, and 
grasped his pistol tightly for a moment, under the im- 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


143 


pression that he was about to be discovered. He was 
one of those fierce, angry men who are at all times ready 
to risk their lives in order to gratify revenge. Old Cole- 
man had more than once thwarted Rodney Nick in his 
designs, besides having in other ways incurred his dislike ; 
and there is no doubt that had the coast-guardman dis- 
covered him at that moment, he would have paid for the 
discovery with his life. Fortunately for both of them, 
Coleman turned, after standing a few seconds at the 
mouth of the cave, and retraced his steps along the 
bsach. 

He prolonged his walk on this occasion to the ex- 
tremity of his beat, but, long before reaching that point 
his figure was lost to the smuggler’s view in darkness. 

“ At last ! ” exclaimed Rodney Nick, taking a dark 
lantern from his breast, and peering cautiously in every 
direction. “ Now then, Long Orrick, if ye look sharp 
we’ll cheat ’em again, and chew our quids and drink our 
grog free of dooty 1 ” 

As he muttered these words the smuggler flashed the 
lantern for an instant, in such a manner that its brilliant 
bull’s-eye was visible far out at sea. Agaim he let its 
light shine out for one-kisianti ; then he closed the lid, 
and awaited the result. 

Out upon the sea, not far from the wild breakers that 
thundered and burst in foam on the south end of the 
Goodwin Sands, a boat, of the size and form styled by 
men of the coast a “ cat,” was tossing idly on the waves. 
The men in her were employed in the easy task of keep- 
ing her head to the wind, and in the anxious occupation 
of keeping a “ bright lookout ” on the shore. 

“ Time's up,” said one of the men, turning suddenly 


144 


T II E LIFEBOAT. 


towards his companions, and allowing the light of a dark 
lantern to fall on the face of a watch which he held in 
his hand. 

“ Dowse the glim, you lubber,” cried the angry voice 
of Long Orrick, “ and keep a sharp lookout for the 
signal. If it don’t come we’ll run for Old Stairs Bay, 
an’ if they’re too sharp for us there we’ll make for Peg- 
well Bay, and drop the tubs overboard with sinkers 
at ’em.” 

For nearly quarter of an hour the party in the boat 
watched in silence. It was evident that Long Orrick 
was becoming impatient from the way in which he turned, 
now to windward, to scan the threatening sky, and then 
to landward, to look for the expected signal. He felt, 
on the one hand, that if the gale continued to increase, 
it would be necessary to run for the nearest place of 
safety ; and he felt, on the other hanr(> that if Le did not 
succeed in landing the goods at Fiddler’s Cave, there 
would be small chance of his getting them ashore at all. 

“ There’s the glim,” cried one of the men. 

“ All right ! up with a bit o’ the sail,” said Long Or- 
rick, seizing the tiller from the man who held it. 

In a second or two they were driving before the wind 
straight for the shore. With such a stiff breeze the 
boat was soon close to the breakers ; and now the utmost 
care was necessary in order to prevent it from broaching- 
to and being capsized. No anxiety was felt, however, 
by the crew of the little craft. Deal boatmen are noted 
for their expertness in beaching their boats and in putting 
off to sea in rough weather, and the man who held the 
tiller of the little boat which danced on the white crests 
of the waves that night had many and many a time come 
through such trifling danger scathless. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


145 


“ Look out, Bill,” cried Orrick, as the thunder of the 
waves on the beach sounded in his ears, and the great 
chalk cliffs rose up, ghost-like and dim, before him. To 
one unaccustomed to such scenes it might have appeared 
an act of madness to run ashore on such a night. But 
the danger was not so great as it seemed. 

The man at the bow stood ready with a boat-hook. 
In a moment the keel grated on the shingle. Instantly 
the men were over the side, and the boat was hauled up 
the beach. 

“ Now, then, for the tubs. Make for the cave straight. 
Rodney Nick will be here in a minute. Ah, here he comes ! 
Well, Rodney, we’ve done it pretty smart,” said Long 
Orrick, wading with a keg of brandy towards a figure 
which approached him from the beach. “ Here you are ; 
there’s lots more of ’em. We’re in luck. Look alive ! 
The coast’s clear, I suppose?” 

“ Hall right,” said the dark figure, in a hoarse whis 
per, which terminated in a low chuckle, as Long Orrick 
placed the keg innocently in the arms of old Coleman, 
and returned to the boat for more. 

It may be as well to remark here, — in order to clear - 
up this_mystery, — that although Coleman had not ob- 
served the flash of Rodney Nick’s lantern, his sharp eye 
had observed the gleam of the light in the boat, when 
one of the men, as already mentioned, threw it on the 
face of his timepiece. 

Supposing, erroneously, that this latter was a signal to 
the shore, Coleman, nevertheless, jcame to the correct 
conclusion that some one must be awaiting Long Orrick 
near at hand, and felt convinced that the Smugglers* 
Cave must needs be the rendezvous. 

13 


146 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Hastening cautiously to Bax, whose station was not 
far distant from the cave, he communicated his suspi- 
cions, and they went together towards the place. 

“ I’ll go in first,” said Coleman, “ ’cause I know the 
place better than you do.” 

“ Very good,” assented Bax ; u I’ll stand by to lend a 
hand.” 

Arrived at the cavern, Bax waited outside, and Cole- 
man went in so stealthily that he was at Rodney Nick’s 
side before that worthy had the smallest suspicion of his 
presence. Indeed, Coleman would certainly have run 
against the smuggler in the dark, had not the latter hap- 
pened to have been muttering savage threats against 
wind and tide, friends and foes, alike, in consequence of 
the non-appearance of the boat. 

Seizing him suddenly from behind, Coleman placed his 
knee in the small of his back, forced him almost double, 
and then laid him flat on the ground. 

At the same moment Bax knelt by his side, put one 
of his strong hands on the smuggler’s right arm, — 
thereby rendering it powerless, — and placed the other 
on his mouth. 

So quickly was it all done that Rodney was bound and 
gagged in less than two minutes. Coleman then ran out 
just in time to receive the first instalment of the brandy, 
as already related. Being much the same in build and 
height with Rodney Nick, he found no difficulty in pass- 
ing for him imthe darkness of the night and violence of 
the wind, which latter rendered his hoarse whispers al- 
most unintelligible. 

In this way several kegs of brandy, boxes of cigars, 
and bundles of tobacco were landed and conveyed to the 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


147 


cavern by Coleman, who refused to allow Bax to act 
as an assistant, fearing that his great size might betray 
him. 

On the fifth or sixth trip he found Long Orrick waiting 
for him somewhat impatiently. 

“You might have brought a hand with ye, man,” said 
the latter, testily. 

44 Couldn’t git one,” said Coleman, taking the keg that 
was delivered to him. 

“ What say?” cried Orrick. 

44 Couldn’t git one,” repeated the other, as loudly and 
hoarsely as he could whisper. 

“ Speak out, man,” cried Long Orrick, with an oath ; 
44 you ain’t used to have delicate lungs.” 

44 1 couldn’t git nobody to come with me,” said Cole- 
man, in a louder voice. 

The tone was not distinct, but it was sufficient to open 
the eyes of the smuggler. Scarcely had the last word 
left his lips when Coleman received a blow between the 
eyes that laid him flat on the beach. Fortunately the 
last wave had retired. There was only an inch or so of 
foam around him. Long Orrick knelt on his foe, and 
drew a knife from his girdle. Before the next wave 
came up, Coleman with one hand caught the uplifted 
arm of his adversary, and with the other discharged a 
pistol which he had drawn from his breast. In another 
instant they were struggling with each other in the wave 
which immediately swept over the beach, and Bax was 
standing over them, uncertain where to strike, as the 
darkness rendered friend and foe alike undistinguishable. 

The men in the boat at once rushed to the rescue, 
omitting to take weapons with them in their haste. 


148 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


•Seeing this, Bax seized the struggling men by their col- 
lars, and exerting his great strength to the utmost, 
dragged them both high upon the beach. He was in- 
stantly assailed by the crew, the first and second of whom 
he knocked down respectively with a right and left hand 
blow ; but the third sprang on him behind, and two others 
came up at the same moment, — one on each side, — and 
seized his arms. 

Had Bax been an ordinary man, his case would have 
been hopeless ; but having been endowed with an amount 
of muscular power and vigor far beyond the average of 
strong men, he freed himself in a somewhat curious 
manner. Bending . forward, he lifted the man who 
grasped him round the neck from behind quite off his 
legs, and, by a sudden stoop, threw him completely over 
his head. This enabled him to hurl his other assailants 
to the ground, where they lay stunned and motionless. 
He then darted at Coleman and Long Orrick, who were 
still struggling together with tremendous fury. 

Seeing his approach, the smuggler suddenly gave in, 
relaxed his hold, and exclaimed, with a laugh, as Bax 
laid hold of him, — 

“Well, well, I see it’s all up with me ; so it’s o’ no use 
resistin’/’ 

“ No, that it ain’t, my friend,” said Coleman, rising 
and patting his foe on the back. “ I can’t tell ye how 
pleased I am to meet with ye. You’re gittin’ stouter, I 
think. Smugglin’ seems to agree with ye ! — hey?” 

He said this with a leer, and Bax laughed as he in- 
spected Long Orrick more narrowly. 

The fact was, that the smuggler’s clothing was so 
stuffed in all parts with tobacco that his lanky propor- 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


149 


tions had quite disappeared, and he had become so 
ludicrously rotund as to be visibly altered even in a 
dark night ! 

“ Well, it does agree with me, that’s a fact,” said 
Long Orrick, with a savage laugh ; in the tone of which 
there was mingled, however, quite as much bitterness as 
merriment. 

Just at this moment the rest of Coleman’s friends, 
including Tommy Bogey and Peekins, appeared on the 
scene in breathless haste, having been attracted by the 
pistol-shot. 

In the eager question and answer that followed, Long 
Orrick was for a moment not sufficiently guarded. He 
wrenched himself suddenly from the loosened grasp of 
Bax, and, darting between several of the party, one of 
whom he floored in passing with a left-handed blow, he 
ran along the shore at the top of his speed ! 

Bax, blazing with disappointment and indignation, sel 
off in fierce pursuit, and old Coleman, bursting with 
anger, followed as fast as his short legs and shorter wind 
would permit him. Guy Foster and several of the others 
joined in the chase, while those who remained behind 
contented themselves with securing the men who had 
been already captured. 

13 * 


CHAPTER XII. 


A stern chase never was and never will be a short 
one. Old Coleman, in the course of a quarter of a mile’s 
run, felt that his powers were limited, and wisely stopped 
short ; Bax, Guy, and Tommy Bogey held on at full 
speed for upwards of two miles along the beach, follow- 
ing the road which wound along the base of the chalk 
cliffs, and keeping the fugitive well in view. 

But Long Orrick was, as we have seen, a good runner. 
He kept his ground until he reached a small hamlet, 
named Kingsdown, lying about two and a half miles to 
the north of St. Margaret’s Bay. Here he turned sud- 
denly to the left, quitted the beach, and made for the 
interior, where he was soon lost sight of, and left his dis- 
appointed pursuers to grumble at their bad fortune and 
wipe their heated brows. 

The strength of the gale had now increased to such an 
extent that it became a matter not only of difficulty, 
but of danger, to pass along shore beneath the cliffs. 
The spray was hurled against them with great violence, 
and, as the tide rose, the larger waves washed up with a 
magnificent and overwhelming sweep almost to their base. 
In these circumstances Guy proposed to go back to St. 
Margaret’s Bay by the inland road. 

“ It’s a bit longer,” said he, as they stood under the 
lee of a wall, panting from the effects of their run, “ but 
we shall be sheltered from the gale ; besides, I doubt if 
we could pass under the cliffs now.” 

( 150 ) 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


151 


Bax made no reply, but, placing his hand on his friend's 
arm, stood for a few seconds in the attitude of one who 
listens with profound attention. 

“ There it is,” said he at last. “ Do ye hear that, 
Guy ? ” 

“ I hear it,” cried Tommy Bogey, with some excite- 
ment. 

“ I hear nothing but the howling of the wind,” said 
Guy, “ and the roaring of the sea.” 

“ Hush ! listen ! the minute-gun,” said Bax, in a low 
voice ; “it comes from St. Margaret’s Bay ; there, did 
you not — ” 

“ Ah ! I heard it,” cried the other ; “ come, let us run 
down along the beach a bit, and see if we can make out 
whereabouts she is.” 

Guy spokq as if he had no doubt whatever of the cause 
of the sounds which had attracted the attention of him- 
self and his friends. Without another word they all bent 
their heads to the storm, and forced their way out upon 
the exposed beach, where they found some fishermen 
assembled in the lee of a boat-house, looking eagerly 
towards the direction whence the sounds came. 

“ I’m afear’d she’s got on the rocks to the nor’ard o* 
the bay,” said one of the men, as Bax and his compan- 
ions ran towards them ; “ there goes another gun.” 

A faint flash was seen for an instant away to the south- 
ward. It was followed, in a few seconds, by the low 
boom of a distant gun. Almost at the same moment the 
black heavens seemed to be cleft by a sheet of livid flame, 
which towered high into the sky, and then went out, leav- 
ing the darkness blacker than before. 

“ That’s a rocket,” cried the fishermen. 


152 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


u Heaven help them,” said Bax, as he hastily buttoned 
his oil-skin coat close up to his chin. u Come, Guy, 
we’ll away, and do whafwe can. Will any of you lads 
join us?” 

Most of the younger men on the ground at once vol- 
unteered. 

“ Stop,” cried one of the older men ; “ the tide ’s too 
high ; ye can’t pass the cliff, I tell ye.” 

The man was left abruptly by the whole party, for they 
knew well enough that if they took the inland road they 
might be too late to render effectual assistance, and any 
needless delay in attempting the beach road could only 
make matters worse. 

There was no lifeboat on this part of the Kentish coast 
at that time, and the .great distance of the spot from 
Ramsgate or Broadstairs rendered it highly improbable 
that either of the lifeboats belonging to these ports could 
be in time to render effectual assistance. Besides, the 
men knew well that on such a night the crews of these 
boats would have enough of work to do in attending to 
the wrecks in their own immediate neighborhood. 

They followed Bax, therefore, at a. steady trot until 
they reached a part of the perpendicular cliff which pro- 
jected somewhat towards the sea. At the foot of this, 
the waves, which on this coast roll to the shore with tre- 
mendous volume and power, burst with a loud roar, and 
rushed up in thick foam. 

“ Don’t any of you come on that don’t feel up to it,” 
cried Bax, as he awaited the retreat of a wave, and pre- 
pared to make a dash. At that moment he wheeled 
round with the look and air of one who had forgotten 
something. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


153 


M Tommy,” said he, laying his hand on the boy’s head, 
“ go back, lad, round by the land road.” 

“ No, Bax, I won’t” replied Tommy, with a fervor of 
determination that would at any other time have raised 
a laugh in those who heard it. 

“ Come along, then, you obstinate beggar,” said Bax, 
sternly, seizing the boy by the arms, and throwing him 
over his shoulder as if he had been a lamb. 

Tommy’s dignity was hurt. lie attempted to struggle, 
but he might as well have hoped to free himself from the 
hug of a brown bear as to escape from the vice-like grip 
of his big friend. In another moment Bax was whelmed 
in spray, and knee deep in rushing water. 

It was a short, dangerous passage ; but the whole party 
got round the cliff in safety, and hastened as rapidly as 
possible towards the scene of the wreck. 

We must now beg the reader to follow us to another 
scene, and to go back a few hours in time. 

Shortly after the sun set that night, and before the full 
fury of the storm broke forth, a noble ship of two thou- 
sand tons’ burden beat up the Channel, and made for the 
Downs. She was a homeward-bouud ship, just arrived 
from Australia, with a valuable cargo, and between two 
and three hundred passengers, many of whom were gold- 
diggers returning to their native land, and nearly all of 
whom were possessed of a considerable sum in nuggets 
and gold-dust. The ship was owned by the house of 
Denham, Crumps, and Co. Her arrival had been al- 
ready telegraphed to the firm in Redwharf Lane. 

There was rejoicing that evening on board the “ Tri- 
dent.” Men, and women, and children crowded the 
high sides of the weather-worn ship, and, holding on by 


154 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


shrouds, ratlines, and stays, — standing on tiptoe, clam- 
bering on carronades, and peeping through holes, — 
gazed long and ardently at the white cliffs of dear Old 
England. 

Some of them had not set eyes on the “ old country,” 
as it is affectionately called in our colonies, for many 
years. Some there were who had gone out as boys, and 
were returning bald-headed and gray-bearded men . There 
were others who had been out only a few years, but who, 
happening to be on the spot when the gold-fields were 
discovered, had suddenly made fortunes. They were 
returning to surprise and gladden the hearts of those, 
who, perchance, had sent them off to seek their fortunes 
with the sad feeling that there was little chance of seeing 
them again in this world. 

There were ladies, also, who had gone out to the dis- 
tant land with an unbelieving, almost despairing, hope 
of finding employment for those talents which they had, 
alas ! found to be of but little value at home. These were, 
in some cases, returning with lucky gold-diggers and 
blooming children to their native land. In other cases 
they were merely about to visit home to induce some 
parent or sister, perhaps, to venture out to the land of 
gold. 

But all, whether young or old, male or female, gentle 
or simple, were merry and glad of heart that night as 
they clustered on the bulwarks of the “ Trident,” and 
gazed at the longed-for and much-loved shore. There 
was no distinction of ranks now. The cabin and the 
’tween-deck passengers mingled together, and tried to 
relieve the feelings of their hearts by exchanging words 
of courtesy and good-will. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


155 


The stormy and threatening aspect of the sky had no 
terrors now for the passengers on board the “ Trident.” 
For weeks and months they had tossed on the bosom of 
the great deep. They were familiar with the varied 
moods of wind and wave ; they had faced the dangers 
of the sea so often that they scarce believed that any real 
dangers could exist. The very children had become 
sailors ; they were precociously weather-wise, and rather 
fond of being tossed on the waves than otherwise. The 
prospect of a storm no longer filled them with alarm, as 
it used to do at the beginning of the voyage, for they had 
encountered many storms, and weathered them all. Yes, 
they had experienced all the dangers of the sea, but it 
was reserved for that night — that last night of the long, 
long voyage — to teach them the dangers of the land; 
the terrors of a storm in narrow waters, among shallows, 
and on a lee shore, — and to convince them that for man 
there is no real safety whatever in this life, save, only, in 
the favor and love of God. 

There were some on board the “ Trident,” however, 
who knew the danger of their position full well, but who 
were too considerate of the feelings of the women and 
children to let their knowledge appear even in their looks. 
The sailors knew the danger of a lee shore ; but sailors 
are, to a large extent, a reckless and hopeful class of men, 
whose equanimity is not easily upset. The captain, too, 
and the pilot, were alive to their critical position ; but 
both were sanguine, and hoped to get into the Downs 
before the storm should break. 

A few of the male passengers also seemed to be aware 
of the fact that approaching the Downs on such a night 
was anything but matter of gratulation. One in qmrtic* 


156 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


ular, a tall, strong man of about forty, with a bushy, black 
beard, and a stern aspect, walked about the quarter-deck 
with a frown on his countenance that betokened a mind 
ill at ease. 

Going up to the captain, who stood near the wheel, 
this man asked him what he thought of the weather. 

44 It don’t look well ; we shall have a dirty night, I 
fear,” replied the captain. 

“ Do you expect to make the Downs before the storm 
breaks ? ” inquired the passenger. 

44 Well, I hope so,” said the captain. 

44 Supposing you do,” continued the dark man, “ do 
you consider your cables and ground-tackle strong enough 
to hold the ship in the face of an easterly gale ? ” 

“Why do you ask that?” said the captain, in sur- 
prise. 

44 Because,” replied the passenger, 44 1 have my doubts 
on the point.” 

“ Well, to tell you the truth,” said the other, in a low 
tone, 44 I confess that my mind is more uneasy on that 
score than on any other. The cables are fit enough to 
hold her in ordinary weather ; but if we were obliged to 
anchor off a lee shore in a heavy gale on an exposed coast 
like this, I would be somewhat anxious.” 

“ Why is the ground tackle not strong enough ? ” asked 
the passenger. 

44 Well, it’s not easy to answer that,” replied the cap- 
tain, with a smile ; “ and yet it ain’t difficult to conceive 
that it would cost a good deal to supply new and heavier 
chains and anchors to the ship.” 

“ Ay, the old stor y economy !” said the passenger, 
bitterly, almost fiercely ; 44 a set of selfish land-lubbers, 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


157 


who know nothing whatever about the sea, and care fof 
uothing on earth but their own pockets and bellies, are 
allowed by the government of this land to send ships load- 
ed with human beings to sea in such a state that it almost 
calls for the performance of a miracle to secure their safe 
arrival in port. This is pointed out again and again to 
them without effect. The sea throws its dead by dozens 
on our shores every gale that blows, crying out, ‘ Look 
here at the result of economy and selfishness ! ’ Goods 
to the extent of thousands of pounds are destroyed annu- 
ally, and the waves that swallow them belch out the same 
complaint. Even the statistics that stare in the face of 
our legislators, and are published by their own authority, 
tell the same tale, yet little or nothing is done to pre- 
vent misers from sending ships to sea in a totally unfit 
condition to face even ordinary dangers. Bah ! the thing 
is past remedy, for the men who should act are deaf and 
blind. Mark my words, captain ; if we don’t weather 
the South Foreland before ten o’ the clock this night, the 
‘Trident’ will be a total wreck before morning.” 

The passenger turned on his heel with an angry fling 
and went below, while the captain, who was somewhat 
overawed by his vehemence, walked aft to converse with 
the pilot. 

The gale soon burst on the ship, sending nearly all the 
passengers below, and compelling the captain to reduce 
sail. Darkness, overspread the scene, and as the night 
wore on, the gale increased to such a degree that the ship 
labored heavily. Soon the lights on the South Foreland 
were descried and passed in safety. 

“ Get the anchors clear,” said the pilot. “ Ready 
about there ! ” 


14 


158 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


No one ever knew the reason of the order given at 
that time. Perhaps the pilot thought he was a little 
too near the land, and meant to haul off a little ; but 
whatever the reason might have been, the command was 
only half carried out when the sheet of the jib gave way ; 
•^he loosened sail flapped itself to shreds in a second, and 
'he ship, missing stays, fell off towards the shore. 

“ Better wear ship,” cried the captain, springing in 
alarm to the pilot’s side. 

* “Too late for that. Shore’s close under our lee. Let 
go the anchors ! ” 

The shout with which the command was given proved 
the necessity of its being instantly obeyed ; but the men 
needed no urging, for at that moment a temporary lull in 
the furious blast allowed them to hear the roaring of the 
breakers at the foot of the cliffs. 

Two anchors wore at once let go, and the ship was 
brought up with a tremendous shock. 

And now commenced that prolonged struggle for life 
which is, alas ! too often the lot of those who venture out 
upon the stormy sea. Yet it was some time before the 
passengers of the “ Trident ” could be brought fully to 
realize their danger. It w^as hard to believe that, after 
weathering the cyclones of the southern seas, and the 
gales of the Atlantic, they had reached home at last to 
be cast a wreck upon their own threshold, and to perish 
within hail almost of relatives and friends. 

For a long time they refused to credit the appalling 
truth that their case was all but hopeless, — \ anchored as 
they were close to a lee shore, with inadequate ground 
tackle, and an increasing gale. When the chain of the 
smaller anchor snapped, and the captain ordered the 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


159 


minute-gun to be fired, and rockets to be thrown up, then 
the wail of terror began : — 

“ Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave.” 

“ You’d better order the boats to be lowered,” said the 
dark passenger to the captain, with a sneer that seemed 
unnatural as well as unfeeling in the circumstances. 

The captain, who was standing by the starboard mizzen 
shrouds at the time, glanced angrily at him for a moment, 
and said, — 

“ Ha! You know well enough that there ain’t boats 
enough in the ship to carry all the passengers, and if 
there were, they could not live for a moment in such 
a sea.” 

“ Yes,” replied the dark man, vehemently, “ I know 
that well enough ; and I know, too, that there’s no life- 
boat of any kind abroad, nor. life-jackets, nor life-buoys, 
beyond what would suffice to float some half dozen men ; 
and the owners knew this, before sending their ship to 
sea ; and, knowing it, they cared not a rap, because they 
had insured ship and cargo to the full value. Human 
life, not being counted part of the cargo, is of no value 
whatever to them.” 

“ Come, Mr. Clelland,” said the captain, reproachfully, 
u is this a time for a Christian man to encourage bitter 
feelings against his fellows because of systems and cus- 
toms, bad or good?” 

“Ay, it is the time,” answered the other ; “ at least, if 
I don’t let out my mind now, it’s not likely I’ll find a 
fitter time to do it in this world.” 

He said this somewhat sadly, and turned away just a? 
the captain gave orders to throw up another rocket. 


160 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Far along that stormy coast the rocket was seen by 
hundreds who knew well what the signal meant, and 
many of whom, no doubt, offered up prayer to God for 
those who were in danger. Most of them, however, felt 
that they could do nothing in the way of affording aid. 
Our friend Bax and his companions were not of this 
mind, as we have seen. 

Some of the stout-hearted boatmen of Deal also thought 
that something might be done, and launched their lug- 
gers, but were in some cases obliged to desist, owing to 
the ever-increasing fury of the storm. 

The rockets were seen also by another party of sea- 
men, who stood grouped under the lee of a boat-house far 
away to the southward. This was the crew of a small 
lifeboat which stood ready to be launched. The boat 
was quickly run out of its house by command of its cock- 
swain, and the crew hastily equipped themselves for their 
dangerous work. 

They put on life-jackets made of a number of pieces 
of cork sewed on canvas, in such a way as to cover their 
bodies from shoulder to waist without interfering with the 
play of the arms. Some of the men objected to put these 
on at first, feeling afraid lest their courage should be 
called in question, in consequence of their using a con- 
trivance which was not in such general use at that time 
as it is now. Their objections were overcome, however, 
except in the case of one young man, who exclaimed, 
“ No, no ; none o’ yer floats for me. When my time 
comes I must go, and them things won’t save me.” 

The poor man did not see that the same argument, if 
correct, would have justified his going off in a coble 
instead of a lifeboat. The want of perception on this 
point, and false pride, cost him his life. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


161 


Several young women, wives of some of the men, had 
assembled there to dissuade their husbands from groin" 
out on such a terrible night. These were so alarmed at 
the terrific thunder of the surf on the shores of the little, 
bay, and the howling of the wind, that they clung to the 
men and entreated them with tears not to venture. Is it 
a matter of wonder that these bold fellows, who could 
not be appalled by the storm, found it difficult to resist 
the power of woman’s tears? They wavered for a few 
seconds ; but when the cockswain, who was a cool, in- 
trepid old man-of-war’s man, cried in a hearty voice, 
“ Now, then, lads, look alive ! shove off, and jump in ! ” 
every man sprang to his post, and the lifeboat was afloat 
in an instant. Through some mismanagement, however, 
she turned broadside to the sea, was overturned instantly, 
and rolled over on the beach. The women shrieked ; the 
men on shore ran to the rescue, and fortunately saved 
every man, with the exception of the one who had re- 
fused to put on the life-jacket, and who, being less able 
to support himself than his companions, when washed 
back into deep water by each retiring wave, became at 
length exhausted, and ceased to struggle for life. When 
he was at last laid hold of and dragged ashore, he was 
dead. 

While some of the men were engaged in fruitless efforts 
to save this man, the rest of the crew, having suffered 
little, were about to launch the boat a second time, when 
the women again rushed forward and clung to them with 
such eager entreaties, that they began at last to entertain 
the idea of the storm being too wild for them to ven- 
ture off. 

Lest the reader should unjustly censure these men, 

14 * 


162 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


we must remind him of the fact that the self-righting 
principle not having at that time been discovered, the 
danger incurred in case of an upset was very great ; and 
the boat about which we are writing, being small, ran 
considerable risk of being capsized by the heavy seas. 
In fact, almost the only difference between lifeboats and 
ordinary boats, at this time, was the incapacity of the 
former to sink when filled with water, owing to the buoy- 
ancy of the air-chambers fitted round their sides. If 
filled by a sea, much valuable time had to be lost in 
baling out the water before the oars could be effectively 
resumed, and if overturned, it was a matter of the great- 
est difficulty for the men in the water to right them 
again ; in some cases it had proved impossible. All 
these defects are remedied nowadays ; but more on this 
head hereafter. 

While the men were in this undecided state of mind, 
regardless alike of the commands and the taunts of the 
cockswain, two men were seen to leap down the slope 
that lay between the cliffs and the sea, and make for the 
group of boatmen at full speed. As they drew near 
they were recognized to be Mr. Hamilton, a young mid- 
shipman, then on leave of absence, and his friend Thomp- 
son, an old college companion. 

They ran straight to the boat, the former shouting, as 
he came up, — 

“ Ho ! get her off, lads ; a large ship ashore in St. 
Margaret’s Bay ; now, then, all together, and with a 
will ! ” 

So powerful was the influence of the young middy’s 
clear voice and prompt action, that the men with one 
accord shoved the lifeboat into the sea ; succeeded in 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


163 


keeping her stern to the waves until they were beyond 
the roughest of the breakers ; and then, laying to their 
oars manfully, pulled away for the scene of the wreck. 

They were soon lost in darkness, and the poor women 
returned weeping to their homes, there to throw on some 
additional covering, and hasten towards the same spot 
by land. 



CHAPTER XIII. 


When Bax and his party arrived at St. Margaret's 
Bay, the scene of wreck and death had already begun. 

The vessel was just discernible in the midst of the 
turmoil of warring elements that filled the dark air with 
misty spray. A boat had tried to reach the shore with 
a number of passengers — chiefly men — in her. Her 
fate was quickly sealed. A huge breaker upset her, and 
six of the dead bodies of her crew had already been 
plucked from the sea, and laid on the shingle. The rest 
were being hurled on the land, and swept back by the 
force of the returning waves, until the people assembled 
there caught and dragged them also beyond their reach. 

Messengers had already been sent to the nearest life- 
boat stations, and the people who remained behind were 
either occupied in attempting to recover the bodies of the 
drowned, as above described, or in suggesting impos- 
sible plans for conveying a line on board the ill-fated 
vessel. 

“ Ha ! here comes the man as 'll tell us wot’s to be 
done, and do it, too ! ’’ cried one of the boatmen ; “ wot 
say, Bax, — can we git a line off, think’ee ? ” 

Bax stood on the edge of the roaring sea, silent and 
motionless, with his arms crossed on his broad chest, and 
his bold gaze directed to the wreck. 

“ No," said he, after standing a few moments thus, 
“ it can’t be done. No mortal man could cross the surf 
on the inner rocks ; but there’s a point o’ rocks not far to 
( 164 ) 


T II E LIFEBOAT. 


165 


the nor’ard ; does any one know how far the tide may 
cover ’em just now ? ” 

“ About half,” answered several voices eagerly. 

“ Ay, so ’t does,” observed a coast-guardman, “ but with 
sich a surf beatin’ on ’em there ain’t a rock on the whole 
pint above water this minute.” 

“ Come, let’s go see,” cried Bax, snatching a coil of 
light rope from the hand of a man who stood close by, 
and hastening away with it in the direction of the rocky 
point referred to. 

In a few seconds he stood on its outer extremity, with 
Guy Foster, Coleman, and a few of the more courageous 
men at his side. 

The point on which Bax stood was indeed a position 
of great danger. Besides being whelmed in driving 
spray, so that it was a matter of extreme difficulty to 
see more than a few yards in any direction, the waves at 
times rushed up to and over them with such violence as 
to reach the knees of those who stood there, and threat- 
ened to wash them off. Nevertheless, from this point 
Bax thought it possible that the end of the line might be 
conveyed on board the “ Trident,” which could be seen 
looming high and black in the murky air, lifting and fall- 
ing with a heavy crash as each successive billow broke 
under and over her, carrying on with irresistible violence 
the work of destruction. Both chains had given way, 
and she was now rolling a helpless wreck on the rocks. 

“D’ye mean to try it?” said Guy, anxiously, as he 
observed his friend fastening the line round his waist. 

“ Hold the end of it, Guy, and pay out,” said Bax ; 
“ mind you don’t haul in unless you’re sure I’m goiu 
down.” 


i66 


THE LI FEBO AT 


With this caution, Bax plunged into tl^e surf, and struck 
out for the wreck, having previously placed an open clasp- 
knife between his teeth. 

A cheer broke from the nearest group on the rocks 
when they witnessed this bold act. It was taken up and 
reechoed by those farther up the beach, who knew that 
some hopeful effort was being made, although they were 
unable to perceive the precise nature of it. The people 
on the wreck also heard the cheer, and looked eagerly 
landward. But to them all was shrouded in darkness. 
Even Guy quickly lost sight of his friend, and was only 
made aware of his safety and onward progress by the 
continued running out of the line. Suddenly it stopped. 

“ He’s a-board,” cried Coleman. 

“ He would jerk on it if he was,” said Guy, with a 
doubtful shake of the head. 

“ He’s sunk,” cried one of those who stood by and held 
the slack of the rope. 

A panic seemed to seize the others who stood by. 
“ Haul *im in ! ” cried one. “ Look alive ! ” shouted 
another ; “ he’s a gone man.” Before Guy could inter- 
fere, they acted on the impulse, and drew in two or three 
fathoms. 

Twisting his left arm suddenly round the rope, Guy 
planted his foot on a rock and stopped it ; at the same 
time he raised his right hand, and threatened to fell the 
man nearest to him. The result was, that the men de- 
sisted from hauling ; but wh<3A4he rope was .again felt, 
it became evideutthat there was no weight at the farther 
end of it. Guy’s heart sank with horror as the empty 
line was drawn in. For a moment he felt all the agony 
of despair ; but a gleam of hope rushed in upon him on 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


167 


observing that the end of the rope was cut , as if with a 
sharp knife, not by the edge of a rock. 

Animated by this hope, he hastened back to the beach 
in quest of another line, resolved himself to attempt to 
carry it to the wreck. 

Guy was right in his .conjecture that Bax had cut the 
rope. On nearing the ship, the latter had come unex- 
pectedly on a large rock, under the lee of which he paused 
to recover breath before making the last gallant struggle 
towards the wreck. It was this pause that caused the 
alarm of those on shore. When Bax felt himself dragged 
violently back to the land, he at once divined the cause ; 
and, knowing that there was no other resource, he seized 
the clasp-knife, and cut the rope. A few minutes later 
he swam under the lee of the wreck, and, catching hold 
of the rigging of the foremast, which had gone by the 
board when the ship struck, he clambered up the side, 
and soon stood on the quarter-deck. 

The hope raised among the passengers by the sudden 
appearance of the gigantic stranger in the midst of them 
was quickly dispelled when he, told them how he had 
failed in the main object of his effort. But it revived 
somewhat when they observed the active and energetic 
way in which Bax set about preparations for returning 
to the shore with a line from the ship. His first act was 
to ask for a bluelight, which, after a few minutes, was 
produced. This he set fire to, and, springing into the 
main rigging, held it aloft, and sent a bright glare for a 
few minutes, far and wide, over the scene. 

The effect of this was twofold. It revealed to the ship- 
wrecked people the dangers by which they were sur- 
rounded, and the active efforts that were being made by 


i68 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


laud and water for tlieir deliverance. On shore, they 
saw crowds of men and women surrounding an instru- 
ment, which Bax, after giving vent to a hopeful cheer, 
explained was a rocket apparatus. Scarcely had they 
learned this, when Bax shouted, and waved his hand 
seaward. On turning their eyes in that direction, they 
beheld a lifeboat bearing down towards them, her white- 
painted sides gleaming like the wings of an angel of light, 
in the midst of the dark tempest. 

The lifeboat was also seen by the people on shore, and 
Guy, who at once recognized the figure, and the vigor , 
of his friend, with the bluelight, lent able assistance to 
those who managed the rocket. 

Dennett’s Rocket Apparatus, which was being placed 
in position on the rocks, is an invention by which many 
human lives are saved on our coasts every year. Like 
Manby’s Mortar Apparatus, it is simple in its action and 
most effective in operation. 

The grand difficulty in the case of a wreck near shore 
is to establish a communication, by means of a rope, 
between the wreck and the land ; and this difficulty is, 
of course, much increased when the wreck occurs off a 
coast lined with rocks or steep cliffs. To swim off from 
the shore to the wreck, or vice versa , is, in most cases, an 
absolute impossibility. The rocket apparatus has been 
devised for the purpose of overcoming this difficulty. 
By means of it a light “ line,” as it is called, or rope, 
the thickness of the point of one’s little finger, can be 
thrown over a wreck lying at a distance of several hun- 
dred yards from the beach. This line, when caught, is 
the means by which many a life has been saved from the 
devouring sea. The modus operandi will be seen in the 
sequel. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


169 


The apparatus consists of five parts ; the rocket, the 
stand, the line, the whip, and the hawser. The rocket 
is a strong metal cylinder, of about eighteen inches in 
length, and more than two in diameter. When about to 
be used, a long stick is attached to it, and the principle 
on which it acts is precisely similar to that of the small 
rockets used in our pyrotechnic displays. The stand is a 
tripod, supporting a rest for the rocket. The line, which 
is made of the best material, is coiled in a large box, in 
a zigzag manner, on a number of pegs ; these pegs, when 
withdrawn in a mass by removing the bottom of the box, 
to which they are attached, leave the line loose and free 
to fly out with the utmost rapidity. The end of the line 
is fastened to the head of the rocket. 

Any one who has stood near an ordinary rocket when 
it was being fired, can form some conception of the force 
and furor with which this iron monster springs into the 
air and dashes out to sea in the teeth of the wildest storm. 
So tremendous is the gush of fire and smoke, that it has 
to be let off by means of a lock, the trigger of which is 
pulled by a man standing some yards distant with a cord 
attached to it in his hand. 

Before the rocket was quite ready for action, the life- 
boat had approached the wreck, a hundred yards or so 
to windward of her. Here they cast anchor in such a 
position that by paying out cable they could veer down 
towards her slowly, and endeavor to range up under her 
lee. Every different operation the lifeboat had to per- 
form was fraught with extreme danger. The mere being 
overwhelmed by the furious sea, and filled, was compar- 
atively a trifling risk. This it had been twice, already, 
and but for the time lost in baling out, it would have 
15 


170 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


been ranch earlier on the scene. While paying out cable 
there was the fear of the rope breaking or the anchor 
dragging ; then, on nearing the wreck, there was the risk 
of being dashed to pieces on the rocks ; and after getting 
under her lee, the surging of the waves kept them con- 
stantly on the verge of being hurled against the rigging. 
The wreck of the foremast, too, which still lay rolling 
alongside, was a source of constant anxiety, and the roll- 
ing of the ship itself rendered it probable that one or 
both of the remaining masts would give way, and fall 
over the side, in which case the destruction of the boat 
would be almost inevitable. Add to this the intense 
darkness, the terrible uproar of wind and Water, and the 
difficulty of acting effectively in a boat that pitched and 
swooped wildly on the broken seas like the plungings of a 
fiery charger, — and some faint idea may be formed of 
the horrors, as well as the dangers, of the lifeboat service. 

Gradually, but surely, the boat dropped nearer and 
nearer to the doomed ship under the guidance of her able 
cockswain. As it passed under the stern, a cheer burst 
from the crowd of eager faces that gazed over the side 
of the u Trident.” Yet there were many hearts there 
that grew faint and chill when they beheld the little white 
speck that seemed to be their only hope of rescue in that 
dark hour. “ What hope was there that such a nutshell 
should save them all?” they thought,. perchance, on see- 
ing it approach. They little knew the wonderful vitality 
of a lifeboat! 

Just as it passed under the quarter, a sea- swept it right 
up into the mizzen-chains. The utmost efforts of the crew 
to fend off were unavailing. As the billow rolled on, the 
boat dropped swiftly, scraping against the ship’s side as 


T n E LIFEBOAT. 


171 


it fell into the trough of the sea, and escaping an upset 
almost by a miracle. 

“ Throw a line aboard ! ” shouted Bax, who stood on 
the lee bulwarks, high above the crowd, holding on bj 
the mizzen shrouds. 

The middy caught up the instrument used for this pur- 
pose, and threw a line on board at once. This steadied 
the boat a little, and, watching their opportunity, they 
succeeded in lowering three women and a child into it by 
means of a bow-line. 

In this way, one by one, th$ females and children were 
placed in the boat until it was full. Then there was a 
cry to shove off, and a rush was made by the more timid 
and ignorant among the passengers, who thought they 
were about to be forsaken. Bax had foreseen this. He 
and several of the sailors met and checked the crowd, and 
before any mischief could be done the boat was away. 

It made straight for the shore, where hundreds of stout 
arms were ready to seize it. The midshipman stood on 
the bow with a rope in his hand. The sea through which 
they rushed was milk-white with foam. To prevent the 
boat broaching-to and being rolled over on the -beach was 
now the main effort of the cockswain. On they went 
steadily. A wave broke under them, carried them on its 
boiling, crest with lightning speed, and launched them, 
with a roar like thunder, on the shingle. The rope was 
thrown before they touched. It was seized and manned ; 
and before the retiring wave could suck them back, the 
lifeboat, with her living freight, was run high upon the 
beach. 

She was soon emptied and relaunched, for there was 
no time to waste. Many lives were still in danger, and 


172 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


the “ Trident ” could not be expected to hold together 
long. 

It was just as the boat quitted the side of the wreck, 
as above described, that the rocket was got in readiness 
to act. 

“ Stand by to fire,” said the coast-guardman who 
had been engaged for some minutes in adjusting it care- 
fully. 

u Keep back ! clear out o’ the road ! ” cried several of 
the seamen, as they pushed back the more curious among 
the crowd. 

There was a flash, a mighty burst of flame and smoke, 
as the rocket trembled for an instant on its stand ; then, 
with an impulse that seemed irresistible, and a hissing 
shriek that rose above the storm, it sprang into the air, 
and described a bright, curved line of light against the 
J>lack sky. 

Its own wild -blaze served to show that it had been 
well aimed, and that the line had fallen across the. wreck. 
This was all that could be done by the people on shore 
until those on the wreck had performed their part of the 
work. But while they stood anxiously awaiting the re- 
sult, they had no cause to fear that the ignorance of those 
whom they sought to rescue would render their efforts 
useless (as has unfortunately been the case more than 
once) , for it was known now that Bax was on board. 

The ignorance of some seamen as to what should be 
done with the line when it is caught, has been the cause 
of loss of life several times. On one occasion, five men, 
the crew of a small vessel, being ignorant on this poiut, 
tied the rocket-line round them, and leaped together into 
the sea ! Of course those on shore could do nothing but 







THE LIFEBOAT. 


173 


haul them to land as quickly as possible ; when they |jad 
done so, all were found to be drowned except one. 

On the present occasion Bax seized the line as soon as 
it fell on the wreck, and began to haul it inboard, Guy 
had attached to it a pulley, or block, with a stoutish rope 
rove through it, and soon those on shore had the satis- 
faction of seeing this second and double line (named the 
“ whip ”) hauled out by the people on the wreck. After 
a time it ceased to run out, and then they knew that Bax 
had got hold of the pulley, and would quickly attach it 
to the ship. This was soon done. Bax fastened the 
pulley to the mainmast, and then caused a lantern to be 
shown for a moment, to indicate that all was ready. ' 

Still, those on shore delayed to act for a minute, in 
order to make quite sure that ample time had been al- 
lowed for the fastening of the pulley. And now the all- 
important operation of conveying a thick hawser to the 
wreck was begun. With the tackle already fast to the 
ship this was comparatively easy. The whip being rove 
through a pulley, both ends were kept on shore and 
fastened together. It thus became a sort of endless rope, 
by which things could be passed to the wreck and back 
again. Even without any hawser at all, many lives might 
have been saved by this rope ; but, being small, it was 
liable to get broken ; therefore the end of the thick haw- 
ser was sent out and received by Bax, who bound it also 
securely to the mainmast, close to the pulley, about fifteen 
feet above the deck. 

The reader will understand that two ropes were now 
fastened to the mainmast of the “ Trident,” their other 
ends being fixed to a heavy anchor buried in the sand on 
shore. One of these ropes was the thick hawser, the 

15 * 


174 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


other the whip ; but as this whip was an endless, or re- 
volving, rope, as has been explained, to an onlooker it 
appeared that there were three ropes stretched between 
the vessel and the shore, two of them thin and one thick. 

These preliminary arrangements having been made, 
much more rapidly than the description of them might 
Tjead one to suppose, the purpose for which they had been 
fixed soon began to be carried out. Just as the lifeboat 
arrived with its first cargo of passengers, a large block, 
or pulley, was run out along the hawser by means of the 
whip, having atta^hed^to it a circular life-buoy, with a 
canvas ba^hungin^from^i?. This was the contrivance 
into which one individual at a time was placed and drawn 
ashore. Two holes in the bag allowed the legs of the 
occupant to hang down, and as the belt reached almost 
up to the neck, there was not much chance of his being 
tossed out of it. It was in order to prevent this, how- 
ever, that Bax had fastened the end of the hawser high 
on the mainmast, so that the travelling-bag was raised 
sufficiently above the water, except when it neared the 
shore. Then, indeed, it was frequently immersed in the 
towering waves ; but then, too, it was so near the land 
that a few seconds sufficed to draw it beyond the reach 
of the sea.* 

* In order to give to those of our readers who happen to be interested 
in this subject a better idea of the manner of using the rocket apparatus, 
we subjoin the instructions given by the Board of Trade to masters and 
seamen in regard to it : — 

In the event of your vessel stranding within a short distance of the 
United Kingdom, and the lives of the crew being placed in danger, assist- 
ance will, if possible, be rendered from the shore in the following manner 

namely : — 

1. A rocket or shot, with a thin line attached, will be fired across your 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


175 


For two hours did these men of the coast toil in this 

6 

arduous labor of love. More than a hundred persons 
had been saved ; but nearly a hundred still remained on 
board the wreck. 

The storm was now at its height, and the vessel rolled 
over on her bilge so violently that the lifeboat was more 
than once on the point of being crushed under her mas- 
sive sides. On her last trip she came close up under the 
quarter, as on former occasions ; but before any one 
could be taken off, a monstrous wave lifted the hull right 
over the rocks on which she lay, and let her fall with 
fearful violence on a bed of sand in such a position that 
one of her large timbers snapped across with a report 
like a cannon shot. 

The-lifeboat got-etftangled in the wreck, and could not 
get clear. To make matters worse, it grounded on a 


vessel. Get hold of this line as soon as you can, and when you have se- 
cured it, let one of the crew be separated from the rest, and, if in the day- 
time, wave his hat or his hand, or a flag or handkerchief; or, if at night, 
let a rocket, a bluelight, or a gun be fired, or let a light be shown over the 
side of the ship, and be again concealed, as a signal to those on shore. 

2. When you see one of the men on shore, separated from the rest, wave 
a red flag, or, if at night, show a red light and then conceal it, you are to 
haul upon the rocket line until you get a tailed block with an endless fall 
rove through it. 

3. Make the tail of the block fast to the mast about fifteen feet above the 
deck, or, If your masts are gone, to the highest secure part of the vessel ; 
and when the tailed block is made fast, and the rocket line unbent from the 
whip, let one of the crew, separated from the rest, make the signal required 
by Article 1 above. 

4. As soon as the signal is seen on shore, a hawser will be bent to the 
whip line, and will be hauled off to the ship by those on shore. 

5. When the hawser is got on board, the crew should at once make it fast 
to the same part of the ship as the tailed block is made fast to, only about 
eighteen inches higher, taking care that there are no turns of the whip line 
round the hawser. 

6. When the hawser has been made fast on board, the signal directed by 

Article 1 above is to be repeated. 


176 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Band-bank that rose close to the side of the “ Trident,” 
and could not be hauled out of the dangerous position in 
which it was thus suddenly placed. The topgallant 
masts of the ship were swaying wildly over it ; the yards 
were swinging to and fro, threatening each moment to 
strike it ; and the ragged sails flapped over it with a noise 
like thunder. 

“Haul off! haul. off!” shouted. Bax, who< observed 
the extreme danger in which the boat was- placed. 

The crew attempted to do so, but for some minutes 
were unsuccessful. At last they got into deep water ; but 
just as this was accomplished, the mainyard struck it on 
the side, and. overturned it in an instant. 

Not being constructed on the self-righting principle, the 
boat remained keel up ; but the men, buoyed up by their 
life-jackets, succeeded in climbing on board the wreck. 


7. The men on shore will then pull the hawser taut, and by means of the 
whip line will haul off to the ship a sling 1 life-buoy, fitted with petticoat 
breeches. The person to be hauled ashore is to get into this sling, thrust- 
ing his legs through the breeches, and resting his armpits on the life-buoy. 
When he is in, and secure, one of the crew must be separated from the rest, 
and again signal to the shore as directed in Article 1 above. The people on 
shore will then haul the person in the sling to the shore, and when he has 
landed, will haul back the empty sling to the ship for others. This opera- 
tion will be repeated, to and fro, until all persons are hauled ashore from 
the wrecked vessel. 

8. It may sometimes happen that the state of the weather and the con- 
dition of the ship will not admit of the hawser being set up, in which case 
the sling will be hauled off instead, and the persons to be rescued will be 
hauled in it through the surf instead of along the hawser. 

Masters and crews of wrecked vessels should bear in mind that the suc- 
cess in landing them may in a great measure depend upon their coolness 
nnd attention to the rules here laid down ; and that by attending to them, 
many lives are annually saved by the mortar and rocket apparatus on the 
coasts of the United Kingdom. 

The system of signalling must be strictly adhered to ; and all women, 
children, passengers, and helpless persons should be landed before the 
crew of the ship. — Board of Trade, 22d December , 1859. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


177 


A cry of despair arose from those still on board the 
ill-fated “Trident” when this catastrophe happened. 
During the next half hour the rocket apparatus was 
plied with great success ; but although most of the women 
and children were. saved by it (and by the boat before it 
was disabled), there were still upwards of fifty men on 
board the wreck. 

“ D’you think the ship will hold together long? ” said 
Bax, going aft to the captain, who clung to the mizzen- 
shrouds, superintending the operations of the men. 

“ Nob long, I- fear,” he replied. “If she had been 
thoroughly repaired before starting on this voyage, she 
might have weathered the gale ; but, but — ” 

“ But,” interposed Mr. Clelland, — the dark passen- 
ger, who, during the whole of the proceedings which we 
have narrated, had stood calmly beside the captain, look- 
ing on, -V “ but Messrs. Denham, Crumps, and Co., being 
penny wise and pound- foolish, thought that the -ships 
were^trong enough iovHheir -purpose, both-ship and cargo 
being fully covered by- insurance ! ” 

There was a -spice of bitterness in this man’s tone and 
manner which -displeased Bax. He was about ta admin- 
ister a rebuke to him, when a larger wave than usual 
lifted the ship up, and let' her fall with such force that 
another of her large timbers broke across like a pipe- 
stem, and the two remaining masts went by the board, 
sweeping .several of the passengers and crew into the sea 
along with the wreck of spars and cordage. 

Just under the quarter a -child fell into the water. It 
had been .wrenched from its mother’s arms by the coil 
of a flying *rope. The mother leaped frantically on the 
bulwarks, and would have plunged into the sea had not 


178 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Bax seized her. At that moment^Mr. Clelland passed a 
rope^ound his* waist, .tied it in thatr swift and perfect 
manner peculiar to seamen, and sprang into the sea. He 
seized the 'child in his arms. The captain of the “Tri- 
dent ” had caught the rope as Clelland sprang over the 
side. Bax assisted him, and in a few minutes both were 
hauled safely on board. 

“ You’re better stuff than I gave you credit for,” said 
Bax, as the dark passenger delivered the child to its 
mother. 

“ Indeed ! ” said Mr. Clelland, with a touch of sar- 
casm in his tone ; “ I hope that I may be able to return 
you the like compliment at a more- fitting season. At 
present there is other' work for us to do. Come, lads, 
we must try to right the lifeboat ; who will help me ? ” 

Mr. Clelland sprang into the sea as he spoke, and swam 
towards the- boat, which still -lay under the Tee of the 
wreck with its *keel uppermost. Bax followed instantly, 
and so did nearly the whole -crew of the boat. These 
latter, having on their cork jackets, ran comparatively 
little- risk of drowning; but -they, as well as Bax and 
Clelland, were in danger of being disabled by the rolling 
spars that surrounded them. With great difficulty they 
succeeded in turning the boat -over ; but as it was nearly 
full of water, much valuable time was wasted before it 
could be. baled out sufficiently to render it once more 
serviceable. When this was accomplished they* hauled 
clear* of the wreck, intending to veer round towards the 
stern, where they could approach the ship with greater 
safety. 

The remaining passengers, seeing this, rushed upon 
the poop. At that moment the ship was- lifted up, and 
hurled with such violence on a sunken rock that her bacK- 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


179 


was broken ; the sea dashed against her. side, separating 
the poop from the fore part of the. vessel, and turning it 
completely over, (so that every soul on board was plunged 
suddenly into the sea. 

A wild shriek of despair rose high above the howling 
of the storm, and most of the weaker among the passen- 
gers sank in the raging sea to rise no more. But the 
lifeboat was now in a condition to render effectual aid to 
those who were strong enough to^ struggle a few minutes 
for their lives, or to cling to broken, portions of the 
wreck. She was soon as full as she could hold, and Bax, 
seizing the bow oar, forced her. head round towards the 
shore. The cockswaiiLsprang to the helm. u Give way, 
lads,” was shouted ; and in a few seconds the boat was 
once again careering towards the shore on the crest of a 
towering billow. She took the .beach in safety. 

“ Now, then, -shove off again,” cried.Bax, when the 
last of the. passengers waaassisted out of her. 

“ Stop ! ” cried a coast-guardman ; “ some of the men 
are too much knocked up to go off .again.” 

This was evident, for when the lanterns were held up 
to the faces of the brave fellows, it was seen that several 
of the less robust among them were deadly pale from 
sheer exhaustion and fatigue. They indignantly pro- 
tested, however, that they were- still “ game for another 
bout ; ” but the cockswain firmly, though kindly, insisted 
that the cork belts should be taken off two or three of 
them, and given to the stoutest of at least a dozen volun- 
teers who eagerly stepped forward. 

The boat was then relaunched, and after a careful 
search, and another sharp struggle with the angry sea, 
returned witlv *ix saved' men and a woman, besides 
several apparently dead bodies, which were instantly 


180 


THE LIFEBOAT 


removed to a neighboring cottage, to be treated according 


Humane Society for 


to the rules laid down 



the recovery of those who are apparently drowned . 1 * 1 

* It is of immense importance that every man in the kingdom should 
possess Borne degree of knowledge on the subject of the restoration of 
persons apparently drowned, for no one can tell at what moment he may 
be called upon, in the absence of medical aid, to act in a case of this na- 
ture. We therefore make no apology for here giving in full the rules 
which have been adopted by the National Lifeboat Institution. They run 
as follows : — 


I. 


Send immediately for medical assistance, blankets, and dry clothing, but 
proceed to treat the patient instantly on the spot, in the open air, with the 
face downwards , whether on shore or afloat; exposing the face, neck, and 
chest, to the wind, except in severe weather, and removing all tight cloth- 
ing from the neck and chest, especially the braces. 

The points to be aimed at are, — first and immediately , the restora 
tion of breathing; and secondly, after breathing is restored, the pro- 
motion OF WARMTH AND CIRCULATION. 

The efforts to restore breathing must be commenced immediately and 
energetically, and persevered in for one or two hours, or until a medical 
man has pronounced that life is extinct. Efforts to promote warmth and 
circulation beyond removing the wet clothes and drying the skin must 
not be made witil the first appearance of natural breathing. For if circu- 
lation of the blood be induced before breathing has recommenced, the res- 
toration to life will be endangered. 


II. TO RESTORE BREATHING. 


To Clear the Throat. — Place the patient on the floor or ground 
with the face downwards , and one of the arms under the forehead, in 
which position all fluids will more readily escape by the mouth, and the 
tongue itself will fall forward, leaving the entrance into the windpipe 
free. Assist this operation by wiping and cleansing the mouth. 

If satisfactory breathing commences, use the treatment described below 
to promote warmth. If there be only slight breathing, or no breathing, 
or if the breathing fail, then, — 

To Excite Breathing. — Turn the patient well and instantly on the 
side, supporting the head, and, — 

Excite the nostrils with snuff, hartshorn, and smelling salts, or tickle 
the throat with a feather, etc., if they are at hand. Rub the chest and 
face warm, and dash cold water, or cold and hot water alternately, on 
them. 

If there be no success, lose not a moment, but instantly, — 

To Imitate Breathing. — Replace the patient on the face, raising 


THE LIFEBOAT 


181 


After the back of the ship was broken, and the wreck 
overwhelmed, the rocket apparatus of course became 
useless, as the mast to which the ropes were attached 

and supporting the chest well on a folded coat or other article of 
dress. 

Turn the body very gently on the side and a little beyond, and then 
briskly on the face, back again; repeating these measures cautiously, 
efficiently, and perseveringly about fifteen times in the minute, or once 
every four or five seconds, occasionally varying the side. 

[ By placing the patient on the chest the weight of the body forces the air 
out ; when turned on the side this pressure is removed , and air enters the 
chest.] 

On each occasion that the body is replaced on the fhce, make uniform 
but efficient pressure, with brisk movement, on the back between aud be- 
low the shoulder-blades, or bones on each side, removing the pressure 
immediately before turning the body on the side. During the whole of 
the operations, let one person attend solely to the movements of the head, 
and of the arm placed under it. 

[ The first measure increases the expiration , the second commences in- 
spiration.] 

*** The result is respiration , or natural breathing , and, if not too late, 
life. 

Whilst the above operations are being proceeded with, dry the hands 
and feet; and as soon as dry clothing or blankets can be procured, strip 
the body and cover, or gradually re-clothe it, but taking care not to inter- 
fere with the efforts to restore breathing. 

III. 

Should these efforts not prove successful in the course of from two to 
five minutes, proceed to imitate breathing by Dr. Silvester’s method, as 
follows : — 

Place the patient on the back on a flat surface, inclined a little upwards 
from the feet; raise and support the head and shoulders on a small firm 
cushion or folded article of dress placed under the shoulder-blades. 

Draw forward the patient’s tongue, and keep it projecting beyond the 
lips; an elastic band over the tongue and under the chin will answer this 
purpose, or a piece of string or tape may be tied round them, or by raising 
the lower jaw the teeth may be made to retain the tongue in that position. 
Remove all tight clothing from about the neck and chest, especially the 
braces. 

To Imitate the Movements of Breathing. — Standing at the 
patient’s head, grasp the arms just above the elbows, and draw the arras 
gently and steadily upwards above the head, and keep th<m stretched 

16 


182 


THE LIFEBOAT 


broke off close to the deck, and the lopes themselves be- 
came so entangled with the wreck as to be unmanageable ; 
but before this catastrophe occurred good service had 
been done, for no fewer than sixty of the passengers of 
the ill-fated “ Trident ” had been saved by this means 
alone. The lifeboat had been the means of saving one 
hundred and twenty lives, and fifteen men, who succeeded 
in swimming to the beach, were rescued with the utmost 
difficulty by the people on shore. 

Among these last was the captain, who, with that heroic 
self-devotion which seems to be a common -characteristic 
of British seamen, had made up his mind to be the last 
man to quit the ship. This intention was frustrated by 
the breaking up of the vessel. In the confusion he was 
swept beyond the reach of the lifeboat, and gained the 
beach he scarce knew how. Here he was launched on the 

upwards for two seconds. [By this means air is drawn into the lungs.] 
Then turn down the patient’s arms, and press them gently and firmly for 
two seconds against the sides of the chest. [By this means air is pressed 
out of the lungs.] 

Repeat these measures alternately, deliberately, and perseveringly, about 
fifteen times in a minute, until a spontaneous effort to respire is perceived, 
immediately upon which cease to imitate the movements of breathing, and 
proceed to induce circulation and warmth. 

IV. TREATMENT AFTER NATURAL BREATHING HAS BEEN RESTORED. 

— TO PROMOTE WARMTH AND CIRCULATION. 

Commence rubbing the limbs upwards, with firm grasping pressure and 
energy, using handkerchiefs, flannels, etc. [By this measure the blood is 
propelled along the veins towards the heart.] 

The friction must be continued under the blanket or over the dry 
clothing. 

Promote the warmth of the body by the application of hot flannels, bot- 
tles or bladders of hot water, heated bricks, etc., to the pit of the stomach, 
the armpits, between the thighs, and to the soles of the feet. 

If the patient has been carried to a house after respiration has been 
restored, be careful to let the air play freely about the room. 

On the restoration of life a teaspoonful of warm water should be given; 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


183 


shingle by a billow, and washed high up on the beach. 
He grasped the loose pebbles with the energy of despair ; 
but the cataract of white water that rushed back as the 
wave retired, swept him with irresistible * force into the 
sea. Again this happened ; and as he dug his fingers into 
the moving gravel, and felt how hopeless was his case, a 
cry of anguish burst from him. 

The cry was heard by Guy Foster, who, with a rope 

round his waist, had been for the last half hour engaged 

in rescuing men and women from the fatal grasp of these 

retiring waves. 

© 

“ This way, lads ! fetch the lantern ! look alive ! ” he 
shouted, and sprang towards the part of the shore whence 
the cry had proceeded, followed by a crowd of seamen 
who had assisted him by holding the rope. 

Guy was much exhausted. Six times already had he 

and then, if the power of swallowing have returned, small quantities of 
wine, warm brandy and water, or coffee, should be administered. The 
patient should be kept in bed, and a disposition to sleep encouraged. 

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 

The above treatment should be persevered in for some hours, as it is an 
erroneous opinion that persons are irrecoverable because life does not soon 
make its appearance, persons having been restored after persevering for 
many hours. 

Appearances which generally accompany Death.— Breathing 
and the heart’s action cease entirely, the eyelids are generally half closed, 
the pupils dilated, the jaws clinched, the fingers semi-contracted; the 
tongue approaches to the under edges of the lips, and these, as well as the 
nostrils, are covered with a frothy mucus. Coldness and pallor of surface 
increase. 

Cautions. — Prevent unnecessary crowding of persons round the body, 
especially if in an apartment. 

Avoid rough usage, and do not allow the body to remain on the back 
unless the tongue is secured. 

Under no circumstances hold the body up by the feet. 

On no account place the body in a warmth bath, unless under medical 
direction, and even then it should only be employed as a momentary ex- 
citement. 


184 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


plunged into the boiling surf and been dragged out with 
a fellow-creature in his arms. He had removed the loop 
of the rope for a few minutes, and now held it in his 
hand as he ran along the beach, looking anxiously at the 
surf. 

Once again the .captain was hurled on the beach, but 
in so exhausted a condition that he could make no effort 
so save himself. He rolled so near ta Guy’s feet that 
the latter dropped the. rope in his haste as he leaped 
towards the drowning man. He caught him round the 
waist just as the broken billow began to rush back. For 
one moment Guy stood, firm ; but as the retiring water 
gathered force, his limbs quivered, the gravel rolled from 
beneath his feet, and he was swept off his legs ! 

Before he was ingulfed in the surf, and almost before 
the cry of alarm had burst from his companions on the 
beach, a boy flung the loop of the rope over his shoul- 
ders, plunged headlong into the sea, and, catching Guy 
round the neck with both arms, held to him like a vice. 
It was Tommy Bogey ! The men hauled gently on the 
rope at first, fearing to tear the little fellow from his 
grasp ; but they need not have been so careful. Tommy’s 
gripe was an uncommonly firm one. Im'half a minute 
the three were pulled beyond the Teach of the waves — 
the captain still breathing, Guy able to walk, though 
much exhausted, and Tommy Bogey none the worse for 
his heroic and successful-exertions. 

This was the last incident worthy of note that occurred. 
Of the two-hundred andjifty souls who had -rejoiced that 
night in the prospect of a safe and speedy termination 
to their long voyage, fifty-five were drowned, and one 
hundred and ninety-five were saved. ^ Of these, last the 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


185 


fifteen men wha swam ashore would have been the sole 
survivors, in all human -probability, if there had been no 
lifeboat or^ocket apparatus on the coast. 

For the service thus rendered, each man who risked his 
life that night in the lifeboat received two pounds from the 
Royal Lifeboat Institution. Others who had assisted in 
saving life on the beach received rewards proportioned 
to their services, and Bax, Guy, and Tommy Bogey were 
each awarded the gold medal of the Society for the dis- 
tinguished gallantry displayed, and the great risks volun- 
tarily . encountered by them on this occasion. It was 
suggested that Denham, Crumps, and Co. should give 
something to the men of the lifeboat in acknowledgment 
of their services ; but Denham Crumps, and Co. did not 
act on the suggestion ! 

16 * 


CHAPTER XIV. 


On the fifth morning that succeeded the breaking of 
the storm, described in the last chapter, the sun rose in 
gorgeous splendor, and shone upon a sea that was clear 
and burnished like a sheet of glass. The wind "had 
ceased suddenly, and a perfect- calm prevailed ; but 
although no breath of air ruffled the surface of the deep, 
the long swell rose and fell as if the breast of ocean were 
still throbbing from its recent agitation. 

All along the east coast of England this swell met the 
shore in a succession of slow-rolling waves, which curled 
majestically over, and appeared almost to pause for a 
moment ere they fell, with deep, solemn roar, in a mag- 
nificent burst of foam. 

Everywhere the. effects of the storm were painfully 
evident. Wrecks could be counted by the dozen from 
some of the bold headlands that commanded an exten- 
sive view of the shore. The work of destruction was 
not yet over. The services of our lifeboats could not 
yet be dispensed with, although the fury of the winds 
had ceased. 

It is a mistake to suppose that when a gale has ceased, 
all danger to man and destruction to his property are over. 
We are apt to attribute too much influence to the winds. 
Undoubtedly they are the origin of the evil that befalls 
us in storms ; but they are not the immediate cause of the 
wholesale destruction that takes place annually among 
the shipping of the kingdom. It is the mighty hydraulic 
( 186 ) 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


187 


force of the sea, the tremendous lifting power of the 
waves, that does it all. 

Although the storm was over and the wind had gone 
down, the swell of the ocean had not yet ceased to act. 
On many a headland, and in many a rocky bay, brigs, 
schooners r barks, aucLships of large size and stout frame, 
were that day lifted and .battered, rent,, torn, riven, and 
split by the sea as if they had been toys ; their great tim- 
bers snapped like pipe-stems, and their iron bars and 
copper bolts twisted and- gnarled as if they had been 
made of wire. 

The hardy men of-Deal were still out in those power- 
ful boats, that seemed to be capable of bidding defiance to 
most storms, saving property to the nation, and earning — 
hardly earning v- salvage for -themselves. The lifeboats, 
too, were out, — c in some cases saving life, in others 
saving property when there were no lives in danger. 

How inadequate are our conceptions of these things 
when formed from a written account of one or two in- 
cidents, even although these be graphically described ! 
How difficult it is to realize the actual scenes that are 
presented all along the coast during and immediately after 
each great storm that visits our shores^ 

If we could, by the exercise of supernatural power, 
gaze down at these shores as from a bird’s-eye point of 
view, and take them in, with all their stirring incidents, 
at one glance ; if we could see the wrecks, large and 
small, — colliers with their four or five hands, emigrant 
ships with their ^hundreds of passengers, — beating and 
grinding furiously on rocks that appear to rise out of and 
sink into a sea of foam ; if we could witness our lifeboats, 
with their noble-hearted crews, creeping out of every 


188 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


nook and bay in the very teeth of what seems to be in- 
evitable destruction ; if we could witness the hundred deeds 
of individual daring done by men with bronzed faces and 
rough garments, who carry their lives habitually in their 
hands, and think nothing of it ; if we could behold the flash 
of the rockets, and hear the crack of the mortars and the 
boom of minute-guns from John o’ Groat’s to the Land’s 
End, at the dead and dark hours of night, when dwellers 
in our inland districts are abed, all ignorant, it may be, 
or thoughtless, in regard to these things ; above all, if 
we could hear the shrieks of the perishing, the sobs and 
thanksgivings of the rescued, and the wild cheers of the 
rescuers ; and hear and see all this at one single glance, so 
that our hearts might be more filled than they are at pres- 
ent with a sense of the terrible dangers of our shores, and 
the heroism of our men of the coast, — it is probable that 
our prayers for those who “ go down to the sea in ships ” 
would be more frequent and fervent, and our respect for 
those who risk life and limb to save the shipwrecked 
would be deeper. It is also probable that w r e might think 
it worth our while to contribute more largely than we do 
to the support of that noble-institution, whose- work it is 
to place lifeboats where they are wanted on our coasts, 
and to recognize, reward, and chronicle the deeds of 
those who distinguish themselves in the great work of 
saving human life. 

Let us put a question to you, good reader. If France, 
or any other first-rate power, were to begin the -practice 
of making a sudden descent on us-about once a month, 
on an average, all the year round, slaying some hundreds 
of our fishermen and seamen each time ; occasionally 
cutting off some of our first-class emigrant ships, and 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


m 


killing all on board -r- men, women, and children, — thus 
filling the land with repeated wails of sorrow, with wid 
ows and with fatherless children : What would you do ? 

What!«r—do you say that you “would fortify every 
island on the coast, plant Martello towers on every flat 
beach, crown every height with cannon, and station iron- 
clads in every harbor and bay, so that the entire coast 
should bristle with artillery ” ? That sounds well ; but 
what guarantee have we that you really would act thus 
if France were to become so outrageous? 

“ Common sense might assure me of it,” you reply. 

So it might, and so it would, if we had not evidence 
to the contrary in the fact that our country is thus assailed 
month after month— year after year — by a more in- 
veterate enemy than France ever was or will be ; and yet 
how little is done to defend ourselves against his attacks, 
compared with what might be, with what ought to be, done ! 

This enemy is the .storm ; but, like France, he is not 
our natural enemy. We have only chosen in time past 
to allow him to become so. The storm has been wisely 
and beneficently ordained by God to purify the world’s 
atmosphere, and to convey health and happiness to every 
land under heaven. If we will not take the obvious and 
quite possible precautions that are requisite to secure 
ourselves from his violence, have we not ourselves to 
blame ? 

There are far too few harbors of refuge on our ex- 
posed coasts ; the consequence is, that our fishing-boats are 
caught by the storm and wrecked, and not unfrequently 
as many as a Jiundred lives are lost in a few hours. Who 
is to blame? A large vessel goes on the rocks because 
there is no lighthouse there to give warning of danger ; a 


190 


THE LIFEBOAT.- 


post has been neglected, and the enemy has crept in. 
Who neglected that post ? After the ship has got on the 
rocks, it is made known to the horrified passengers that 
there are no ship’s lifeboats aboard, neither are there any 
life-belts. Whose blame is that ? Still there seems hope, 
for the shore is not far off, and anxious people line it ; 
but no ordinary boat can live in such a sea. There is no 
rocket apparatus on this part of the coast ; no mortar 
apparatus by which a line might be sent on board. W r hy 
not? The nearest lifeboat station is fifteen miles off. 
Whose fault is that? Is the storm our enemy here? Is 
not selfish, calculating, miserly man his own enemy in 
this case? So the ship goes to pieces, and the result is, 
that the loss of this single vessel makes- sixty widows 
and one hundred and fifty fatherless children in-one night ; 
not to speak of thousands of pounds’ worth of property 
lost to the nation. 

If you doubt this, reader, consult the pages of the 
Lifeboat Journal , in which you will find facts, related in a 
grave* succinct, unimpassioned way, that ought to make 
your hair stand on end ! 

Thoughts strongly resembling those recorded in the 
last few pages filled the mind and the heart of Bax, as 
he stood on that calm bright morning on the sea-shore. 
It was a somewhat lonely spot, at the foot of tall cliffs, 
not far from which the shattered hull of a small brig lay 
jammed between two rocks. Tommy Bogey stood beside 
him, and both man and boy gazed long and silently at 
the wrack which lined the shore. Every nook, every 
crevice and creek at the foot of the cliff, was filled choke 
full of broken planks and spars, all smashed up into 
pieces so small, that, with the exception of the stump of 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


191 


a mainmast and the lieel of a bowsprit, there was not a 
morsel that exceeded three feet in length, and all laid side 
by side in such regular order by the swashing of the sea 
in and out of the narrower creeks, that it seemed as if 
they had been piled there by the hand of man. 

They gazed silently, because they had just come upon 
a sight which filled their hearts with sadness. Close 
beside a l<|jj^e rock lay the form of an old, white-haired 
man, with his head resting on a mass of sea-weed, as if 
he were asleep. Beside him lay a little girl, whose head 
rested on the old man’s -breast, while her long- golden 
hair, lay in wild confusion over his„ face. The counte- 
nances of both were deadly pale, and their -lips blue. It 
required no doctor’s skill to tell that both were dead. 

“Ah’s me ! Tommy, ’tis a,sad sight,” said Bax. 

Tommy made no reply for a few seconds ; but after 
an ineffectual effort to command himself, he burst into 
tears. 

“ If we had only been here- last night,” he sobbed at 
length, “ we might have saved them.” 

“So we might, so we might, Tommy; who knows? 
Some one should have been here, any how. It seems to 
me that things ain’t well managed in these days. They 
haven’t half enough of appliances to save life — that’s a 
fact.” 

Bax said this somewhat sternly. 

“ Whose fault is it, Bax?” said Tommy, looking up in 
his friend’s face. 

“ Ha, Tommy,” replied the -other, with a smile, “ it 
don’t become the like o’ you or me to say who’s to blame. 
You’re too young to understand the outs and ins o’ such 
matters, and I’m too ignorant.” 


192 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


The boy smiled, incredulously. The idea of Bax 
being “ignorant” was too gross and absurd to be 
entertained for a moment, even although stated by 
himself. 

“Well, but,” urged Tommy stoutly, “ if things are 
wrong, it’s clear that they ain’t right, and surely I’ve a 
right to say so.” 

“ True, lad, true,” returned Bax, with an approving 
nod ; “ that’s just the point where I’d like you and me 
to stick to : when we see things to be wrong, don’t let’s 
shirk sayin’ so, as flat as we can ; but don’t let us go, 
like too many shallow-pates, and say that we know 
who's wrong, and why they’re wrong, and offer to put 
them all right on the shortest notice. Mayhap,” — here 
Bax spoke in a soft, meditative tone, as if he had for- 
gotten his young friend, and were only thinking aloud, 
— “ mayhap we may come to understand the matter one 
of these days, and have a better right to speak out : 
who knows?” 

“That I’m certain of!” cried Tommy, in a tone and 
with an air that made Bax smile, despite the sad sight 
before him. 

“ Come, lad,” he said, with sudden energy, “ we must 
get ’em removed. Away ! and fetch a -couple of men. 
I’ll arrange them.” 

Tommy was off in a moment, and Bax proceeded with 
gentle care to arrange the dress and limbs of the old man 
and the child. Two men soon arrived, and assisted to 
carry them away. Who they were no one knew, and few 
cared. They were only two of the many who are thus 
cast annually, and by no means unavoidably , on our 
stormy shores. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


193 


Do not misunderstand us, good reader. Compared with 
what is done by other lands in this matter, Britain does 
her duty well ; but compared with what is required by 
God at the hands of those who call themselves Christians, 
we still fall far short of our duty, both as a nation and 
as individuals. 

17 


CHAPTER XV. 


Stcrms may rage, orphans and widows may weep, bui 
the world must not pause in. its regular routine of busi- 
ness and of pleasure. This is natural and right. It was 
not intended that, men should walk perpetually in sack- 
cloth and ashes because of the sorrows that surround 
them. But equally true is it that they were never meant 
to shut their eyes and ears to those woes, and dance and 
sing through life heedlessly, as far too many do, until 
some thunderbolt falls on their own hearts, and brings 
the truth home. 

The command is twofold, “Weep with those that weep, 
and rejoice with those that do rejoice.” 

Come, then, reader, let us visit good Mrs. Foster, and 
rejoice with her as she sits at her tea-table contemplating 
her gallant son with a mother’s pride. She has some 
reason to be proud of him. Guy has just , received the 
gold medal awarded him by the Lifeboat Institution. 
Bax and Tommy have also received their medals, and all 
three are taking tea with the widow on the occasion. 
Lucy Burton and Amy Russel are there too ; but both of 
these young ladies are naturally much more taken up 
with Tommy’s medal than with that of Guy or of Bax ! 

And well they may be ; for never a breast, large or 
small, was more worthy of the decoration it supported. 

‘‘ My brave boy,” said the widow, referring to Tom- 
my, and taking him by the arm, as he sat beside her, 
but looking, irresistibly, at her son, “ it was a noble 
( 194 ) 


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195 


deed. If I had the giving of medals I would have 
made yours twice the size, with a diamond in the mid- 
dle of it.” 

“ What a capital idea ! ” said Lucy, with a silvery 
lauglf, that obliged her to display a double row of bril- 
liant little teeth. 

“A coral ring set with pearls would be finer, don’t you 
think?” said Guy, gravely. 

Tommy grinned, and said that that was a toothy 
remark. 

Lucy blushed, and said laughingly, that she thought 
Mrs. Foster’s idea better ; whereupon the widow waxed 
vain-glorious, and tried to suggest some improvements. 

Guy, fearing that he had been presumptuous in paying 
this sly compliment, anxiously sought to make amends 
by directing most of his conversation to Amy. 

Bax, who was unusually quiet that evening, was thus 
left to make himself agreeable to Lucy. But he found it 
hard work, poor fellow. It was quite evident that he 
was ill at ease. 

On most occasions, although habitually grave, Bax 
was hearty, and had always plenty to say without being 
obtrusive in his conversation. Moreover, his manners 
were good, and his deportment unconstrained and easy. 
But when he visited the widow’s cottage he became awk- 
ward and diffident, and seemed to feel great difficulty in 
carrying on conversation. During the short time he had 
been at Deal since the wreck of the “ Nancy,” he had 
been up at the cottage every day on one errand or another, 
and generally met the young ladies either in the house or 
in the garden. 

Could it be that Bax was in love? There was no 


196 


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doubt whatever of the fact in his own mind ; but, strange 
to say, no one else suspected it. His character was 
grave, simple, and straightforward. He did not assume 
any of those peculiar airs by which young men make 
donkeys of themselves when in this condition ! He 
feared, too, that it might be interfering with the hopes 
of his friend Guy, whose affections, he had latterly been 
led to suspect, lay in the same direction with his own. 
This made him very circumspect and modest in his be- 
havior. Had he been quite sure of the state of Guy’s 
heart, he would have retired at once ; for it never occurred 
to him for a moment to imagine that the girl whom Guy 
loved might not love Guy, and might, possibly, love 
himself. 

Be this as it may, Bax resolved to watch his friend 
that night closely, and act according to the indications 
given. Little did poor Guy know what a momentous 
hour that was in the life of his friend, and the importance 
of the part he was then performing. 

Bax rose to go sooner than usual. 

“You are very kind, ma’am,” he said, in reply to 
Mrs. Foster’s remonstrances ; “ I have to visit an old 
friend to-night, and as it is -probable I may never see him 
again, I trust you’ll excuse my going so early.” 

Mrs. Foster was obliged to acquiesce. Bax shook 
hands hurriedly, but very earnestly, with each of the 
party, and quitted the cottage in company with Guy. 

“ Come, Guy, let us walk over the Sandhills.” 

“ A strange walk on so dark a night'; don’t you think 
it would be more cheerful on the beach ? ” 

“ So it would, so it would,” said Bax, somewhat 
hastily; “but I want to be alone with you, and we’jS 


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197 


likely to meet some of our cliums on the beach. Besides, 
I want to have a quiet talk, and to tell ye something. — • 
You’re in love, Guy.” 

Bax said this so abruptly that his friend started, and 
for a few seconds was silent. Then, with a laugh, he 
replied, — 

“Well, Bax, you’ve a blunt way of broaching a sub- 
ject ; but, now that you put the thing to me, I feel in- 
clined to believe that I am. You’re a sharper fellow 
than I gave you credit for, to have found me out so 
soon.” 

“ It needs but little sharpness to guess that when two 
young folk are thrown much together, and find each other 
agreeable, they’re likely to fall in love.” 

Bax’s voice sank to its deepest tones ; he felt that his 
hopes had now received their death-blow, and in spite of 
himself he faltered. With a mighty effort he crushed 
down the feeling, and continued in a tone of forced 
gaiety,— 

“ Come, I’m rejoiced at your good luck, my boy ; she’s 
one of a thousand, Guy.” 

“ So she is,” said Guy ; “ but I’m not so sure of my 
good luck as you seem to be ; for I have not yet ventured 
to speak to her on the subject of love.” 

“ No?” exclaimed Bax, in surprise ; “ that’s strange.” 

“ Why so ? ” said Guy. 

“Because you’ve had lots of time and opportunity, 
lad.” 

“ True,” said Guy, “ I have had enough of both ; but 
some folk are not so bold and prompt as others in this 
curious matter of love.” 

“ Ah, very true,” observed Bax ; “ some men do take 

17 * 


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more time than others ; and yet it seems to me that there 
has been time enough for a sharp fellow like you to have 
settled that question. However, I’ve no doubt myself 
of the fact that she loves you, Guy, and I do call that 
uncommon good luck.” 

“Well, it may seem a vain thing to say, but I do 
fancy that she likes me a bit,” said the other, in a half 
jocular tone. 

The two friends refrained from mentioning the name 
of the fair one. The heart and mind of each was filled 
with one object, but each felt a strange disinclination to 
mention her name. 

“ But it seems to me,” continued Guy, “ that instead 
of wanting to tell me something, as you said, when you 
brought me out for a walk in this dreary waste of furze 
and sand, at such a time of night, your real object was 
to pump me ! ” 

“ Not so,” replied Bax, in a tone so deep and sad as to 
surprise his friend ; “ I brought you here because the 
lonely place accords with my feelings to-night. I have 
made up ray mind to go to Australia.” 

Guy stopped abruptly. “ You jest, Bax,” said he. 

“ I am in earnest,” replied the other ; “ and- since I 
have forced myself into your .confidence, I think it but 
fair to give you mine. The cause of my going is love ! 
Yes, Guy, I, too, am in love ; but, alas ! my love is not 
returned; it is hopeless.” 

“ Say not so,” began Guy, earnestly ; but his compan- 
ion went on without noticing the interruption. 

“ The case is a peculiar one,” said he. “ I have known 
the sweet girl long enough to know that she does not 
love me, and that she does love another man. Moreover 


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199 


I love that man, too. He is my friend ; so, the loig and 
the short of it is, I’m going to up-anchor, away to the 
gold-fields, and leave the coast clear to him.” 

u This must not be, Bax ; you may be wrong in sup- 
posing your case hopeless. May I ask her name ? ” 

u Forgive me, Guy, I must not mention it,” said Bax. 

It is not necessary to weary the reader with the vari- 
ety of arguments with which Guy plied his friend in 
order to turn him from his purpose, as they wandered 
slowly over the Sandhills together. He was unsuccessful 
in his efforts to arouse hope in the bosom of his friend, 
or to induce him to suspend his determination for a time. 
Nor was he more fortunate in attempting to make Bax 
say who was the friend for whom he was about to make 
so great a sacrifice, — little suspecting that it was him- 
self! 

“ Now,” said Bax, after having firmly resisted his 
companion’s utmost efforts, “ I want you to leave me 
here alone. I may seem to you to be obstinate and un- 
gracious to-night,” — he stopped, and seized Guy’s hand, 
— “ but, believe me, I am not so. My heart is terribly 
down, and you know I’m a rough, matter-of-fact fellow, 
not given to be sentimental ; so I can’t speak to you as I 
would wish on this subject ; but wherever I may go in 
this world, I will never cease to pray for God’s blessing 
on you and yours, Guy.” 

“ I like to hear you say that, Bax,” returned the 
other ; u it will rejoice my heart to think that love for 
me will be the means of taking you often to the throne 
of God.” 

“ You’re a good fellow, Guy ; perhaps what you have 
often said to me has not been thrown away as much as 


200 


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you suppose. Come, now, instead of you having to 
urge the subject on me, I’ll ask you to give me a text. 
Supposing that you and I were parting to-night for the 
last time, and that I were going off to Australia to-mor- 
row, what would you say to me in the way of advice and 
encouragement ? ” 

Guy paused thoughtfully for a moment, and then said, 
“ Delight thyself in the Lord, trust also in him, and he 
will give thee the desires of thine heart.” 

“ Thank ’ee, lad ; I’ll not forget the words,” said Bax, 
wringing his friend’s hand. 

Perhaps I’ll think of another and more suitable text 
when the time for parting really comes,” said Guy, sadly. 
“ Good night, Bax"; mind you come up to the cottage to- 
morrow, and let me know your plans.” 

“ I shall be busy to-morrow, but I’ll write,” said Bax, 
as his friend left him. “ Ay,” he added, “ there goes a 
real Christian, and a true-hearted friend. CAh’s me ! 
I’ll never see hini more !f’ 

Bax wandered slowly, and without aim, over the dark 
waste for some time. Almost unintentionally he fol- 
lowed the path that led past the Checkers of the Hope. 
A solitary light burned in one of the lower windows of 
the old inn, but no sound of revelry issued from its doors. 
Leaving it behind him, ‘Bax soon found himself standing 
within a few yards of the-tombstone of the ill-fated Mary 
whose name he bore. 

“ Poor thing ! ’twas a sad fate ! ” he murmured, as he 
contemplated the grave of the murdered girl, who had 
been a cousin of his own grandfather. “ Poor Mary, 
you’re at rest now, which is more than I am.” 

For some minutes Bax stood gazing -dreamily at the 


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201 


grave, which was barely visible in the faint light afforded 
by a few stars that shone through the cloudy sky. Sud- 
denly he started, and every fibre of his strong frame was 
shaken with horror, as he beheld the surface of the grave 
move, and saw, or fancied he saw, a dim figure raise 
itself partially from the earth. 

Bax was no coward, in any sense of that word. Many 
brave men there are, who, although quite fearless in re- 
gard to danger and death, are the most arrant cowards 
in the matter of superstition, and could be made to flee 
before a mere fancy. But our hero was not one of these. 
His mind was strong, like his body, and well balanced. 
He stood his ground, and prepared to face the matter out. 
He would indeed have been more than human if such an 
unexpected sight, in such circumstances, had failed to 
horrify him ; but the effect of the shock soon passed 
away. 

“ Who comes here to disturb me?” said a weak voice, 
that evidently belonged to this ghost. 

“ Hallo, Jeph ! is that you? ” exclaimed Bax, spring- 
ing forward, and gazing into the old man’s face. 

“ Ay, it’s me, and I’m sorry you’ve found me out, for 
I like to be let alone in my grief.” 

“ Why, Jeph, you don’t need to be testy with your 
friend. I’ll quit ye this moment if you bid me ; but I 
think you might find a warmer and more fitting bed for 
your old bones than poor Mary Bax’s grave. Come, let 
me help you up.” 

Bax said this so kindly, that old Jeph’s temporarj 
anger at having been discovered passed away. 

“ Well, well,” said he, “ the only two people who 
have found me out are the two I like best ; so it don’t 
much matter.” 


202 


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“ Indeed,” exclaimed the young man, in surprise , 
“ who is number two, Jeph ? ” 

“ Tommy Bogey. He found me here on the night 
when Long Orrick was chased by Supple Jim.” 

“ Strange he never told me about it,” said Bax. 

“ ’Cause I told him to hold his tongue,” replied Jeph ; 
“ and Tommy’s a good fellow, and knows how to shut 
his mouth w’en a friend asks him to, — as I now ask 
you, Bax, for I don’t want people to know that I come 
here every night.” 

“What! do you come here every night?” cried Bax, 
in surprise. 

“ Ay, every night, fair weather and foul ; I’ve been 
used to both for a long time now, and I’m too tough to 
be easily damaged.” 

“ But why do you this, Jeph? You are not mad ! If 
you were, I could understand it.” 

“ No matter, no matter,” said the old man, turning to 
gaze at the tombstone before quitting the place. “ Some 
people are fond of having secrets. I’ve got one, and I 
like to keep it.” 

“Well, I won’t try to pump it out of you, my old 
friend. Moreover, I haven’t got too much time to spare. 
I meant to go straight to your house to-night, Jeph, to 
tell you that I’m off to Australia to-morrow, by peep 
o’ day.” 

“ Australia ! ” exclaimed Jeph, with a perplexed look 
in his old face. 

“ Ay, the blue peter’s at the mast-head, and the anchor 
tripped.” 

Here Bax related to his old comrade what he had pre- 
viously told to Guy. At first Jeph shook his head ; but 


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203 


when the young sailor spoke of love being the cause of 
his sudden departure, he made him sit down on the grave, 
and listened earnestly. 

“ So, so, Bax,” he said, when the latter had con- 
cluded ; “ you’re quite sure she’s fond o’ the other feller, 
are ye ? ” 

“ Quite. I had it from his own lips. At least he told 
me he’s fond of her , and I could see with my own eyes 
she’s fond of him .” 

“ Poor lad,” said Jeph, patting his friend’s shoulder, 
as if he had been a child ; “ you’re quite right to go. I 
know what love is. You’ll never get cured in this 
country ; mayhap foreign air ’ll do it. I refused to tell 
you what made me come out here, lad ; but now that I 
knows how the wind blows with you , I don’t mind if I 
let ye into my secret. Love ! ay, it’s the old story ; love 
has brought me here night after night since ever I was 
a boy.” 

“Love !” exclaimed his companion ; “ love of whom?” 

“ Why, who should it be but the love o’ the dear girl 
as lies under this sod?” said the old man, putting his 
hand affectionately on the grave. u Ay, you may well 
look at me in wonderment, but I wasn’t always the 
wrinkled old man I am now. I was a good-lookin’ lad 
once, though I don’t look like it now. When poor Mary 
was murdered I was nineteen. I won’t tell ye how I 
loved that dear girl. Ye couldn’t understand me. When 
she was murdered by that,” — he paused abruptly, fcr a 
moment, and then resumed, — “ when she was murdered 
I thought I should have gone mad. I was mad, I be- 
lieve, for a time ; but when I came back here to stay, 
after wanderin’ in foreign parts for many years, I took 


204 


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to cornin’ to the grave at nights. At first I got no good, 
I thought my heart would burst altogether ; but at last 
the Lord sent peace into my soul. I began to think of 
her as an angel in heaven ; and now the sweetest hours 
of my life are spent on this grave. Poor Mary ! She 
was gentle and kind, especially to the poor and the af- 
flicted. She took a great interest in the ways and means 
we had for savin’ people from wrecks, and used often to 
say it was a pity they couldn’t get a boat made that 
would neither upset nor sink in a storm. She had . read 
o’ some such contrivance somewhere, for she was a great 
reader. Ever since that time I’ve bin tryin*, in my 
poor way, to make something o’ the sort, but I’ve not 
managed it yet. I like to think she would have been 
pleased to see me at it.” 

Old Jeph stopped at this point, and shook his head 
slowly. Then he continued : — 

u I find that as long as I keep near to this grave my 
love for Mary can't die ; and I don’t want it to. But 
that’s why I think you’re right to go abroad. It won’t 
do for a man like you to go moping through life, as I 
have done. Mayhap there’s some truth in the sayin’, 
Out o’ sight, out o’ mind.” 

“ Ah’s me ! ” said Bax ; “ isn’t it likely that there 
may be some truth, too, in the words o’ the old song, 
‘ Absence makes the heart grow fonder ’ ? But you’re 
right, Jeph ; it wouldn’t do for me to go moping through 
life, as long as there’s work to do. Besides, old boy, 
there’s plenty of this sort o’ thing to be done ; and I’ll 
do it better now that I don’t have anybody in particular 
to live for.” 

Bax said this with reckless gaiety, and touched the 


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205 


medal awarded to him by the Lifeboat Institution, which 
still hung on his breast, where it had been fastened that 
evening by Lucy Burton. 

The two friends rose, and returned together to Jeph’s 
cottage, where Bax meant to remain but a few minutes, 
to leave sundry messages to various friends. He was 
shaking hands with the old man, and bidding him fare- 
well, when the door was burst open, and Tommy Bogey 
rushed into the room. Bax seized the boy in his arms, 
and pressed him to his breast. 

“ Hallo ! I say, is it murder ye’re after, or d’ye mis- 
take me for a polar bear?” cried Tommy, on being put 
down ; “ wot a hug, to be sure ! Lucky for me that my 
timbers ain’t easy stove in. Wot d’ye mean by it?” 

Bax laughed, and patted Tommy’s head. u Nothin’, 
lad, only I feel as if I should ha’ bin your mother.” 

“Well, I won’t say ye’re far out,” rejoined the boy, 
waggishly, u for I do think you’re becomin’ an old wife. 
But, I say, what can be. wrong with - Guy Foster? He 
came back to the cottage a short while ago, lookin’ quite 
glum, and shut himself up in his room, and he won’t say 
what’s wrong ; so I come down here to look for you, for 
I knew I’d find ye with old Jeph or Bluenose.” 

“ Ye’re too inquisitive,” said Bax, drawing Tommy 
towards him, and sitting down on a chair, so that the 
boy’s face might be on a level with his. “ No doubt 
Guy will explain it to you in the morning. I say, Tom- 
my, I have sometimes wondered whether I could de- 
pend on the friendship which you so often profess 
for me.” 

The boy’s face flushed, and he looked for a moment 
really hurt. 


18 


206 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“ Tutts, Tommy, you’re gettin* thin-skinned. I do 
but jest.” 

“ Well, jest or no jest,” said the boy, not half pleased, 
“ you know very well that nothing could ever make me 
turn my back on you .” 

“ Are you sure ? ” said Bax, smiling. “ Suppose, now, 
that I was to do something very bad to you, something 
unkind, or that looked unkind — what then? ” 

“ In the first place, you couldn’t do that ; and, in the 
second place, if you did I’d like you just as well.” 

“ Ay, but suppose,” continued Bax, in a jocular strain, 
“ that what I did was very bad.” 

“ Well, let’s hear what you call very bad.” 

Bax paused, as if to consider ; then he said, “ Suppose, 
now, that I were to go off suddenly to some far part of 
the world for many years without so much as saying 
good by to ye what would you think ? ” 

“ I’d find out where you had gone to, and follow you, 
and pitch into you when I found you,” said Tommy, 
stoutly. 

“ Ay, but I did not ask what you’d do ; I asked what 
you’d think.” 

u Why, I would think, something had happened to pre- 
vent you lettin* me know, but I’d never think ill of you,” 
replied Tommy. 

“I believe you, boy,” said. Bax, earnestly. “But 
come, enough o’ this idle talk. I want you to go up to 
the cottage with a message to Guy. Tell him not to 
speak to any one to-night or to-morrow about what I said 
to him when we were walking on the Sandhills ; and be 
off, lad, as fast as you can, lest he should let it out before 
you get there,” 


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207 


“ Anything to do with smugglers ? ” inquired the boy, 
with a knowing look, as they stood outside the door. 

“ Why, n — no, not exactly.” 

“ Well, good night, Bax ; good night, old Jeph.” 

Tommy departed, and the two men stood alone. 

“ God bless the lad. You’ll be kind to him, Jeph, 
when I’m away ? ” 

“ Trust me, Bax,” said the old man, grasping his 
friend’s hand. 

Without another word, Bax turned on his heel, and his 
tall, stalwart figure was quickly lost to view in the dark 
shadows of the night. 


* 


t 


CHAPTER XVI. 


When Tommy Bogey discovered the terrible fact that 
his friend Bax had really gone from him, perhaps for- 
ever, he went straight up to the cottage, sat down on the 
kitchen floor at the feet of Mrs. Laker, laid his head on 
her lap, and wept as if his heart would break. 

“ My poor boy ! ” said the sympathizing Laker, strok- 
ing his head, and endeavoring to comfort him more by 
tone and manner than by words. 

But Tommy, refused to be comforted. The strongest 
affection he had ever knowu was rudely and suddenly 
crushed. It was hard in Bax to have done it ; so Tommy 
felt, though he would not admit it in so many words. So 
Bax himself felt when the first wild rush of sorrow was 
past, and he had leisure to consider the hasty step he had 
taken, while sailing away over the distant sea towards 
the antipodes. Bitterly did he blame himself and repent 
when repentance was of no avail. 

Tommy’s grief was deep, but not loud. He did not 
express it with a howling accompaniment. It burst from 
him in gasping sobs for a time ; then it subsided into the 
recesses of his young heart, and gnawed there. It did not 
again break bounds, but it somewhat changed the boy’s 
character. It made him almost a man in thought and 
action. He experienced that strong emotion which is 
known to most young hearts at certain periods of early 
life, and which shows itself in the formation of a fixed 
resolve to take some prompt and mighty step. What 
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209 


that step should be he did uot know at first, and did not 
care to know. Sufficient for him, that coming to an 
unalterable determination of some indefinite sort afforded 
him great relief. 

After the first paroxysm was over, Tommy rose up, 
kissed Mrs. Laker on the cheefc, bade her good night with 
unwonted decision of manner, and went straight to the 
amphibious hut of his friend Bluenose, whom he found 
taking a one-eyed survey of the Downs through a teles- 
cope, from mere force of habit. 

The captain’s name was more appropriate that day 
than it had been for many years. He was looking un- 
commonly “ blue ” indeed. He had just heard of the 
disappearance of Bax, for the news soon spread among 
the men on Deal beach. Being ignorant of the cause of 
his friend’s sudden departure, and knowing his deliberate, 
sensible nature, the whole subject was . involved in a 
degree of mystery which his philosophy utterly failed to 
clear up. Being a bachelor, and never- having been in 
love, or met with any striking incidents of a tender nature 
in his career, it did not occur to him that woman could 
be at the bottom of it. 

“ Uncle,” said Tommy, “ Bax is gone ! ” 

“ Tommy, I knows it,” was the brief reply ; and the 
telescope was shut up with a bang, as the seaman sat 
down on a little chest, and stared vacantly in the boy’s 
face. 

“ Why did he do it?” asked Tommy. 

“ Dun’ know. Who knows? S’pose he must ha*/ 
gone mad, though it don’i seem likely. If it wasn’t Guy 
as told me, I’d not believe it.” 

« Does Guy not know why he’s gone ? ” 

18 * 


210 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“ Apperiently he does ; but he says he’s bound not to 
tell. Hope Bax hain’t bin and done somethin’ not ’xactly 
right—” 

“ Bax do anything not exactly right! ” cried Tommy, 
■with a look and tone of amazed indignation. 

“ Right, lad, you’re right,” said Bluenose, apologeti- 
cally. “ I’ve no doubt myself he could explain it all 
quite clear if he was here for to do so. That’s my 
opinion ; and I’ve no doubt either that the first letter 
he sends home will make all straight an’ snug, depend 
on it.” 

“ Uncle,” said Tommy, “ I am going to Australia.” 

Bluenose, who had just lighted his pipe, looked at the 
boy through the smoke, smiled, and said, “ No, Tommy, 
you ain’t.” 

“Uncle,” repeated Tommy, “I am. I once heard 
Bax say he’d rather go there than anywhere else, if he 
was to go abroad ; so I’m certain he has gone there, and 
I’m going to seek for him.” 

“ Wery good, my lad,” said the captain, coolly ; “ d’ye 
go by steamer to-night, or by rail to-morrow mornin’ ? 
P’raps you’d better go by telegraph ; it’s quicker, I’m 
told.” 

“ You think I’m jokin’, uncle ; but I’m not, as you’ll 
very soon find out.” 

So saying, Tommy rose and left the hut. This was 
all he said on the subject. He was a strong-minded little 
fellow. He at once assumed the position of an inde- 
pendent .man, and merely stated his intentions to one or 
two intimate friends, such as Bluenose, Laker, and old 
Jeph. As these regarded his statement as the wild fancy 
of an enthusiastic boy in the first gush of disappointment, 


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211 


they treated it with good-natured raillery. So Tommy 
resolved, as he would have himself expressed it, u to shut 
up, and i^ep his own counsel.” 

When Guy told Lucy Burton that the man who had 
saved her life had gone off thus suddenly, she burst into 
tears ; but her tears had not flowed long before she asked 
Guy the reason of his strange and abrupt departure. 

Of course Guy could not tell. He had been pledged 
to secrecy as to the cause. 

When. Lucy Burton went to tell Amy Russel, she did 
so with a. trembling heart. For some time past she had 
suspected that Amy loved Bax, and not Guy, as she had 
at first mistakenly supposed. Knowing that if her sus- 
picions were true, the news would be terrible indeed to 
her friend, she considerately went to her room, and told 
her privately. 

Amy turned deadly pale, stood speechless for a few 
seconds, and then-fainted in her friend’s arms. 

On recovering, she confessed her love, but made Lucy 
solemnly pledge herself tq. secrecy. 

“No one shall ever know of this but yourself, dear 
Lucy,” said Amy, laying her head on her friend’s bosom, 
and finding relief in tears. 

Time passed away, as time is wont to do, and it 
seemed as if Tommy Bogey had forgotten to carry out 
hi 3 determination. From that day forward he never 
referred to it, and the few friends to whom he had 
mentioned it supposed that he had given up the idea alto- 
gether, as impracticable. 

They did not know the mettle that Tommy was made 
of. After maturely considering the matter, he had made 


212 


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up his mind to delay carrying out his plan until Bax 
should have time to write home and acquaint him with his 
whereabouts. Meanwhile, he would set himself to make 
and save up money by every means in his power, for he 
had sense enough to know that a moneyless traveller 
must be a helpless creature. 

Peekins was permanently received into -Sandhill Cot- 
tage as page-in-buttons, in which capacity he presented a 
miserably attenuated figure, but gave great satisfaction. 
Tommy and he continued good friends, the former de- 
voting as much of his leisure time to the latter as he 
could spare. He had not much to spare, however, for 
he had, among other things, set himself energetically to 
the study of arithmetic and navigation under the united 
guidance of old Jeph and Bluenose. 

Lucy Burton paid a long visit to Mrs. Foster, and 
roamed over the Sandhills day after day with her friend 
Amy, until her father, the missionary, came and claimed 
her, and carried her back to Ramsgate. During Lucy’s 
stay, Guy Foster remained at the cottage, busily en- 
gaged in various ways, but especially in making himself 
agreeable to Lucy, in which effort he seemed to be very 
successful. 

When the latter left, he suddenly discovered that he 
was wasting his time, sadly, and told his mother that he 
meant to look out for something to do. With this end 
in view he set out for London, that mighty hive of indus- 
try and idleness, into which there is a ceaseless flow of 
men who “ want something to do,” and of men who 
u don’t know what to do.” 

And what of Denham, Crumps, and Co. during this 
period ? 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


213 


The rats in and around Redwharf Lane could have 
told you, had they been able to speak, that things pros- 
pered with that firm. These jovial creatures, that rev- 
elled so luxuriously in the slime, and mud, and miscella- 
neous abominations of that locality, could have told you 
that, every morning regularly, they were caught rioting 
in the lane, and sent squealing out of it, by a boy in blue 
(the successor of poor Peekins), who opened the office 
and prepared it for the business of the day ; that about 
half an hour later, they, the rats, were again disturbed 
by the arrival of the head clerk, closely followed by the 
juniors, who were almost as closely followed by Crumps 
— he being a timid old man, who stood in awe of his 
senior partner ; that, after this, they had a good long 
period of comparative quiet, during which they held a 
riotous game of hide^and-seek across the lane, and down 
among sewers, and dust holes, and delightfully noisome 
and fetid places of a similar character ; interrupted at 
irregular intervals by a vagrant street boy, or a daring 
cat, or an inquisitive cur ; that this game was stopped at 
about ten o’clock by the advent of Mr. Denham, who 
generally gave them, the rats, a smile of recognition as 
he passed to his office, concluding, no doubt, by a nat- 
ural process of ratiocination, that they were, kindred 
spirits, because they delighted in bad smells and filthy 
garbage, just as he (Denham) rejoiced in Thames air 
and filthy lucre. 

One fine morning, — speaking from a rat’s point of 
view, — when the air was so thick, and heavy, and moist, 
that it was difficult to see more than a few yards in any 
direction, Denham came down the lane about half an 
hour later than usual, with a brisk step and an unusually 
smiling countenance. 


214 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Peekins’ successor relieved him of his hat, top-coat, 
and umbrella, and one of the clerks brought him the let- 
ters. Before opening these he shouted, — 

“ Mr. Crumps ! ” 

Crumps came meekly out of his cell, as if he had been 
a bad dog who knew he deserved, and expected, a whip- 
ping. 

“ Nothing wrong, I trust,” he said, anxiously. 

“ No ; on the contrary, everything right.” Crumps’ 
old face brightened. “ I’ve succeeded in getting ‘that 
ship at what I call a real bargain — £500 less than I had 
anticipated and was prepared to give.” Crumps rubbed 
his hands. “ Now, I mean to send this ship out to Aus- 
tralia, with a miscellaneous cargo, as soon as she can be 
got ready for sea. The gold fever is at its height just 
now, and it strikes me, that, with a little judgment and 
prudence, a good thing may be made out there. At any 
rate, I mean to venture ; for our speculations last year 
have, as you know, turned out well, with the exception 
of that unfortunate 1 Trident,’ and we are sufficiently in 
funds just at this time to afford to run considerable risk.” 

Crumps expressed great satisfaction, and agreed with 
all that Denham said. He also asked what the name of 
the new ship was to be. 

“ The ‘ Trident,’ ” said Mr. Denham. 

“ What ! the name of the ship we lost in St. Marga 
ret’s Bay?” exclaimed Crumps, in surprise. 

u I thought you knew the name of the ship we lost i 
St. Margaret’s Bay,” said Denham, sarcastically. 

“ Of course, of course,” replied Crumps, in some con- 
fusion ; “ but I mean — that is, don’t you think it looks 
like flying in the face of Providence to give it the samtf' 
name ? ” 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


215 


“ Mr. Crumps,” said Denham, with an air of dignified 
reproof, “ it is most unnatural, most uncalled-for, to talk 
of Providence in connection with business. It is a word, 
sir, that may be appropriately used on Sundays, and in 
churches, but not in offices, and I beg that you will not 
again allude to it. There is no such thing, sir, as Prov- 
idence in business matters — at least, such is my opinion ; 
and I say this in order that you may understand that any 
remarks of that kind are quite thrown away on me. I 
am a plain, practical man of business, Mr. Crumps ; once 
for all, allow me to say that I object to the very unbusi- 
nesslike remarks of a theological nature which you are 
sometimes pleased to introduce into our conversations. I 
again repeat that there is no such thing as Providence in 
business — at all events, not in my business.” 

“ I will not again offend you,” said poor Crumps, who 
stood looking jponfusea and moving his legs uneasily 
during the delivery of this oration ; u but as you have 
condescended to argue the matter slightly, may I venture 
to hint that our ships are propelled chiefly by means of 
sails, and that the winds are in the hands of Providence?” 

“ There, sir, I utterly disagree with you,” retorted 
Denham ; “ the winds are guided in their courses by the 
fixed laws of Nature, and cannot be altered or modified 
by the wishes or powers of man ; therefore it is quite 
unnecessary, because useless, to regard them in matters 
of business. I am utterly devoid, sir, of superstition ; 
and it is partly in. order to make this clear to all with 
whom I have to do, that I intend to name our new ship 
the 4 Trident/ and to order her to sail on a Friday.” 

As Mr. Denham accompanied his last word with an 
inclination of the head which was equivalent to a dis- 


216 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


missal, Mr. Crumps sighed, and retired to his den. Hifl 
practical and unsuperstitious partner opened and read the 
letters. 

While Denham was thus engaged, a tap came to the 
door, and old Mr. Summers entered the room. 

“ Ah, Summers, glad to see you ; how are you?” said 
Denham, somewhat heartily — for Mm. 

“ Thank you, Denham, I’m well,” replied the benign 
old gentleman, with a smile, as he fixed a pair of gold 
spectacles on his nose, and sat down, in a most business- 
like way, to examine a bundle of papers which he pulled 
out of his coat pocket. 

Mr. Summers was a very old friend of Denham, and 
had been the friend of his father before him ; but that 
was not the reason of Denham’s regard for him. The 
old gentleman happened to be a merchant in the city, 
with whom Denham, Crumps, and Co. did extensive and 
advantageous business. This was the cause of Denham’s 
unwonted urbanity. He cared little for the old man’s 
friendship. In fact, he would have dispensed with it 
without much regret, for he was .sometimes^ pressed to 
contribute to charities by his philanthropic friend. 

“ See, I have settled that matter for you satisfactorily,” 
said Mr. Summers; “there are the ^papers, which you 
can look over at your leisure.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Summers,” said Denham, impres- 
sively ; “ this is indeed very kind of you. But for your 
interference ijfc 'this affair I am convinced that I should 
have lost a thousand pounds, if not more.” 

“ Indeed ! ” exclaimed the old gentleman, with a bright 
smile ; “ come, I’m glad to hear you say so, aud it makes 
my second errand all the more easy.” 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


217 


“ And what may your second errand be ? ” said Den- 
ham, with a sudden gravity of countenance which showed 
that he more than suspected it. 

“ Well, the fact is,” began Summers, 44 it’s a little mat- 
ter of begging that I have undertaken for the purpose of 
raising funds to establish one or two lifeboats on parts of 
our coast where they are very much needed.” Denham 
fidgeted in his chair. 44 You know I have a villa near 
Deal, and frequently witness the terrible scenes of ship- 
wreck that are so common and so fatal on that coast. I 
am sorry to say that my begging expedition has not been 
attended with so much success as I had anticipated. It 
is not such agreeable work as one might suppose, I as- 
sure you, one gets so many unexpected rebuffs. Did you 
ever try begging, Denham ? ” 

Denham said he never had, and, unless reduced to it 
by circumstances, did not mean to do so ! 

44 Ah,” continued Mr. Summers, 44 if you ever do try, 
you’ll be surprised to find how difficult it is to screw money 
out of some people.” Mr. Denham thought that that 
difficulty would not surprise him at all. 44 But you’ll be 
delighted to find, on the other hand, what a number of 
truly liberal souls there are. It’s quite a treat, for in- 
stance, to meet with a man, as I did the other day, who 
gives his charity in the light of such principles as these : 

‘ The Lord loveth a cheerful giver ; ’ 4 It is more blessed 
to give than to receive ; ’ 4 He that giveth to the poor 
lendeth to the Lord/ — one who lays aside a certain pro- 
portion of his income for charitable purposes, and who, 
therefore, knowing exactly how much he has to give at 
any moment, gives or refuses, as the case may be, prompt- 
ly, and with a good grace.” 

19 


218 


THE LIFEB OAT. 


“ Ila ! ” exclaimed Denham, whose soul abhorred thia 
sort of talk, but whose self-interest compelled him to listen 
to it. 

“ Really,” pursued Mr. Summers, “ it is quite interest- 
ing to study the outs and ins of Christian philanthropy. 
Have you ever given much attention to the subject, Mr. 
Denham? Of course, I mean in a philosophical way.” 

“ Ha, a-hem ! well, I cannot say that I have, except, 
perhaps, in my capacity of a poor-law guardian in this 
district of the city.” 

“ Indeed, I would recommend it to you. It is quite a 
relief to men of business like you and me, who are neces- 
sarily swallowed up all day in the matter of making money, 
to have the mind occasionally directed to the considera- 
tion of the best methods of getting rid of a little of their 
superabundance. It would do them a world of good — 
I can safely say so from experience — to consider such 
matters. I dare say that you also know something of 
this from experience.” 

“ Ha ! ” ejaculated Mr. Denham, who felt himself get- 
ting internally warm, but was constrained (of course from 
disinterested motives) to keep cool and appear amiable. 

“ But forgive my taking up so much of your time, my 
dear sir,” said Mr. Summers, rising ; “ what shall I put 
you down for ? ” 

Denham groaned inaudibly, and said, “ Well, I’ve no 
objection to give twenty pounds.” 

“ How much ? ” said the old gentleman, as though ho 
had heard imperfectly, at the same time pulling out a 
note-book. 

There was a slight peculiarity in the tone of the ques- 
tion that induced Denham to say he would give fifty 
pounds. 


T II E LIFEBOAT. 


219 


M Ah ! fifty,” said Summers, preparing to write ; “ thank 
you, Mr. Denham ; ” here he looked up gravely, and added, 
“ the subject, however, is one which deserves liberal con- 
sideration at the hands of society in general ; especially of 
ship-owners. Shall we say a hundred, my dear sir ? ” 

Denham was about to plead poverty, but recollecting 
that he had just admitted that his friend had been the 
means of saving a thousand pounds to the business, he 
said, “ Well, let it be a hundred,” with the best grace he 
could. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Denham, a thousand thanks,” said 
the old gentleman, shaking his friend’s hand, and quitting 
the room with the active step of a man who had much 
more business to do that day before dinner. 

Mr. Denham returned to the perusal of his letters with 
the feelings of a man who has come by a heavy loss. 
Yet, strange to say, he comforted himself on his way 
home that evening with the thought, that, after all, ho 
had done a liberal thing ! that he had given away a 
hundred pounds sterling in charity.” 

Given it ! Poor Denham ! he did not know, that, up 
to that period, he had never given away a single farthing 
of his wealth in the true spirit of liberality — although 
he had given much in the name of charity. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


“Well, Bluenose, hoo d’ye find yerself to-day?” in- 
quired vSupple Rodger one fine morning, as the captain 
sauntered slowly along the beach in front of his hut, with 
his hands deep in the pockets of his pilot coat. 

“ Thank’ee, I amongst the middlings. How’s yerself? ” 

“ I like myself,” said Rodger ; “ how’s old Jeph? ” 

“ Rather or’nary ; but I dessay he’ll come all square 
after a day or two in dock,” answered the captain ; “ I 
left him shored up in bed with bolsters.” 

“ So Tommy’s slipped his cable, I’m told? ” said Rod- 
ger, interrogatively. 

“ Ay, he’s off, an’ no mistake. I thought he was 
jokin’, for I heard him talk o’ goin’ after Bax some time 
past ; but nothin’ more came of it till yesterday, when he 
comes to me and bids me good day, and then off like a 
galley after a French smuggler. It’s of no use tryin’ to 
catch him. That boy’ll make his way and have his will 
somehow, whether we let him or no. Ay, ay,” said 
Bluenose, lighting his pipe with a heavy sigh, “ Tommy 
Bogey’s gone for good.” 

This was the last that was heard of poor Tommy for 
many a long day on the beach of Deal. But as there is 
no good reason why the reader should be kept in the 
dark regarding his movements, we shall follow him on 
the rugged path he had selected, and leave the men of 
Deal to wonder for a time, and talk, and then forget him. 

Having waited as long as his patience could hold out, 
( 220 ) 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


221 


and no letter having come from Bax, Tommy at last 
prepared to carry out his plan. By dint of hard labor 
among the boats at any odd jobs that people would give 
him, and running messages, and making himself generally 
useful to the numerous strangers who visited that fine 
and interesting part of the coast, he had scraped together 
a few pounds. By persevering study at nights he had 
acquired a fair knowledge of figures and a smattering of 
navigation. Thus equipped in mind and purse, he went 
off to seek his fortune. 

His intention was, in the first place, to go to London 
and visit the “ Three Jolly Tars,” where, he doubted not, 
every possible and conceivable sort of information in re- 
gard to shipping could be obtained. 

There chanced, at the time, to be a certain small 
collier lying in the Downs, awaiting a fair wind to carry 
her into the port of London. This collier (a schooner) 
was named the “ Butterfly ; ” perhaps because the owner 
had a hazy idea that there was some resemblance be- 
tween an insect flitting about from flower to flower and a 
vessel sailing from port to port. Black as a chimney 
from keelson to truck, she was as like to a butterfly as a 
lady’s hand is to a monkey’s paw. 

The skipper of the u Butterfly ” was a friend of Blue- 
nose, and knew Tommy. He at once agreed to give him 
a passage to London, and never thought of asking ques- 
tions. 

Soon after the boy went aboard the wind changed to 
the south-west ; the “ Butterfly ” spread her black wings, 
bore away to the nor’ard, and doubled the North Fore- 
land, where she was becalmed, and left to drift with the 
tide just as night was closing in. 

19 * 


222 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


u I’m tired, Jager ; ” — this was the skipper’s name ; — 
“ I’ll go below and take a snooze,” said Tommy, “ for 
I’ve lots o’ work before me to-morrow.” 

So Tommy went below and fell asleep. The three 
men who formed the crew of this dingy craft lay down 
on the deck, the night being fine, and also fell asleep, 
Jager being at the helm. 

Now Jager was one of those careless, easy-going, 
reckless seamen, who, by their folly, ignorance, and in- 
temperance, are constantly bringing themselves to the 
verge of destruction. 

He sat near the tiller gazing up at the stars dreamily 
for some time ; then he looked round the horizon, then 
glanced at the compass and up at the sails, which hung 
idly from the yards, after which he began to mutter to 
himself, in low, grumbling tones, — 

“ Goin’ to blow from the nor’ard. Ay, allers blows 
the way I don’t want it to. Driftin’ to the southward, 
too. If this lasts we’ll drift on the. Sands. Comfr’able 
to think on, that is. Come, Jager, don’t you go for to 
git into the blues. Keep up yer sperits, old boy.” 

Acting on his own suggestion, the skipper rose and 
went below to a private locker, in which he kept a supply 
of rum — his favorite beverage. He passed Tommy 
Bogey on the way. Observing that the boy was sleeping 
soundly, he stopped in front of him, and gazed long into 
his face with that particularly stupid expression which is 
common to men who are always more or less tipsy. 

“ Sleep away, my lad ; it’ll do ye good.” 

Accompanying this piece of unnecessary advice with a 
sagacious nod of the head, the skipper staggered on, and 
possessed himself of a case-bottle about three quarters 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


223 


full of rum, with which he returned to the deck and began 
to drink. 

While he was thus employed, a breeze sprang up from 
the north-east. 

“ Ease off the sheets there, you lubbers ! ” shouted the 
irunken man, as he seized the tiller and looked at the 
compass. “What! sleeping again, Bunks? I’ll rouse 
ye, I will.” 

With that, in a burst of anger, he rushed forward and 
gave one of the sleepers a severe kick in the ribs. Bunks 
rose sulkily, and with a terrible imprecation advised the 
skipper “ not to try that again ; ” to which the skipper 
retorted, that if his orders were not obeyed more sharply, 
he would not only try it again, but he would “ chuck him 
overboard besides.” 

Having applied a rope’s end to the shoulders of one of 
the other sleepers, he repeated his orders to ease off the 
sheets, as the wind was fair, and staggered back to his 
place at the helm. 

“Why, I do believe it is a sou’-wester,” he muttered 
to himself, attempting in vain to read the compass. 

It was, in reality, north-east ; but Jager’s intellects 
were muddled ; he made it out to be south-west, and steered 
accordingly, almost straight before it. The three men 
who formed the crew of the little vessel were so angry at 
the treatment they had received, that they neither cared 
nor knew how the ship’s, head lay. A thick mist came 
down about the same time, and veiled the lights which 
would otherwise have soon revealed the. fact that the 
skipper had made a mistake. 

° Why, wot on earth ails the compass ? ” muttered 
Jager, bending forward intently to gaze at the instru- 


224 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


meut, which, to his eye, seemed to point in all directions 
at once ; u come, I’ll have another pull at the b — bottle 
to steady me.” 

He grasped the bottle to carry out this intention, but 
in doing so, thrust the helm down inadvertently. The 
schooner came up to the wind at once, and as the wind 
had freshened to a stiff breeze and a great deal of canvas 
was set, she heeled violently over to starboard. The 
skipper was pitched into the lee scuppers, and the case- 
bottle of rum was shivered to atoms before he had time 
to taste a drop. 

“ Mind your helm ! ” roared Bunks, savagely. “ D’ye 
want to send us to the bottom ? ” 

The man sprang to the helm, and accompanied his 
remark with several tierce oaths which_need not be re- 
peated, but which had the effect of rousing Jager’s anger 
to such a pitch, that he jumped up and hit the sailor a 
heavy blow on the face. 

“ I’ll stop your swearin’, I will,” he cried, preparing 
to repeat the blow ; but the man stepped aside and walked 
forward, leaving his commander alone on the quarter- 
deck. 

Bunks, who was a small but active man, was a favor- 
ite with the other two men who constituted the crew of 
the “ Butterfly,” and both of whom were strong-limbed 
fellows. Their anger at seeing him treated thus savagely 
knew no bounds. They had long been at deadly feud 
with Jager. One of them especially — a tall, dark, big- 
whiskered man named Job — had more than once said 
to his comrades that he would be the death of the skipper 
yet. Bunks usually shook his head when lie heard these 
threats, and said, “ It wouldn’t pay, unless he wanted to 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


225 


danee a hornpipe on nothing,” which was a delicate ref- 
erence to being hung. 

When the two men saw Bunks come forward with 
blood streaming from his mouth, they looked at each 
other and swore a tremendous oath. 

“ Will ye lend a hand, Jim?” sputtered Job between 
his clinched teeth. 

Jim nodded. 

“ No, no,” cried Bunks, interposing ; but the two men 
dashed him aside and rushed aft. 

Their purpose, whatever it might have been, was 
arrested for a moment by Bunks suddenly shouting at 
the top of his lungs, — 

“ Light on the starboard bow ! ” 

“ That’s a lie,” said Jager savagely ; “ use yer eyes, 
you land-lubber.” 

“ We’re running straight on the North Foreland,” 
cried Job, who, with his companion, suddenly stopped 
and gazed round them out ahead in alarm. 

“ The North Foreland, you fool,” cried the skipper, 
roughly ; “ who ever saw the North Foreland light on 
the starboard bow, with the ship’s head due north ? ” 

“ I don’t believe ’er head is due north,” said Job, 
stepping up to the binnacle, just as Tommy Bogey, 
aroused by the sudden lurch of the vessel and the angry 
voices, came on deck. 

“ Out o’ the way,” cried Jager, roughly, hitting Job 
such a blow on the head that he sent him reeling against 
the lee bulwarks. 

The man, on recovering himself, uttered a fierce yell, 
and rushing on the skipper, seized him by the throat with 
his left hand, and drove his right fist into his face with 
all his force. 


226 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Jager, although a powerful man, and, when sober, 
more than a match for his antagonist, was overborne and 
driven with great violence against the binnacle, which, 
being of inferior quality and ill secured, like everything 
else in the miserable vessel, gave way under his weight, 
and the compass was dashed to pieces on the deck. 

Jim ran to assist his comrade, and Bunks attempted 
to interfere. Fortunately, Tommy Bogey’s presence of 
mind did not forsake him. He seized the tiller while 
the men were fighting furiously, and steered away from 
the light, feeling sure that, whatever it might be, the 
wisest thing to be done was to steer clear of it. 

He had not got the schooner quite before the wind 
when a squall struck her, and laid her almost on her 
beam-ends. The lurch of the vessel sent the struggling 
men against the taffrail with great violence. The skip- 
per’s back was almost broken by the shock, for his body 
met the side of the vessel, and the other two were thrown 
upon him. Job took advantage of his opportunity ; 
seizing Jager by the leg, he suddenly lifted -him over the 
iron rail, and hurled him into the sea. There was one 
wild shriek and a heavy plunge, and the miserable man 
sank to rise no more. 

It is impossible to describe the horror of the poor boy 
. at the helm when he witnessed this cold-blooded murder. 
Bold though he was, and accustomed to face danger and 
witness death in some of its most appalling forms, he 
could not withstand the shock of such a scene of violence 
perpetrated amid the darkness and danger of a stormy 
night at sea. His first impulse was to run below, and 
get out of sight of the men who had done so foul a deed ; 
but reflecting that they might, in their passion, toss him 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


227 


into the sea also if he were to show his horror, he 
restrained himself, and stood calmly at his post. 

u Come, out o’ the way, younker,” cried Job, seizing 
the helm. 

Tommy shrank from the man, as if he feared the con- 
tamination of his touch. 

“You young whelp, what are ye afeared on? eh!” 

He aimed a blow at Tommy, which the latter smartly 
avoided. 

“ Murderer ! ” cried the boy, rousing himself suddenly, 
“ you shall swing for this yet.” 

“ Shall I ? eh ? Here, Jim, catch- hold o’ the tiller.” 

Jim obeyed, and Job sprang towards Tommy ; but the 
latter, who was lithe and active as a kitten, leaped aside 
and avoided him. For five minutes the furious man 
rushed wildly about the deck in pursuit of the boy, 
calling on Bunks to intercept him ; but Bunks would not 
stir hand or foot, and Jim could not quit the helm, for 
the wind had increased to a gale ; and as there was too 
much sail set, the schooner was flying before it with 
masts, ropes, and beams creaking under the strain. 

“ Do your worst,” cried Tommy, during a brief pause, 
“ you’ll never catch me. I defy you, and will denounce 
you the moment we get into port.” 

“ Will you ? Then you’ll never get into port alive,” 
yelled Job, as he leaped down the companion, and 
returned almost instantly with one of the skipper’s 
pistols. 

He levelled it and fired ; but the unsteady motion of 
the vessel caused him to miss his aim. He was about to 
descend for another pistol, when the attention of all on 
board was attracted by a loud roar of surf. 


228 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“Breakers ahead 1” roared Bunks. 

This new danger — the most terrible, with perhaps the 
exception of fire, to which a seaman can be exposed — 
caused all hands to forget the past in the more awful 
present. The helm was put down, the schooner flew up 
into the wind, and sheered close past a mass of leaping, 
roaring foam, the sight of which would have caused the 
stoutest heart to quail. 

“ Keep her close hauled,” shouted Job, who stood on 
the heel of the bowsprit looking out ahead. 

“ D’ye think it’s the North Foreland?” asked Bunks, 
who stood beside him. 

“ I s’pose it is,” said Job ; “ but how it comes to be 
on our lee bow, with the wind as it is, beats me out and 
out. Any how, I’ll keep her well off the land, — mayhap 
run for the coast of Norway. They’re not so partikler 
about inquiries there, I’m told.” 

“ I’ll tell ye what it is, Bunks,” said Tommy, who had 
gone forward and overheard the last observation, but 
could not bring himself to speak to Job, “ you may de- 
pend on it we’re out of our course ; as sure as you stand 
there the breakers we have just passed are the north end 
of the Goodwin Sands. If we carry on as we are goin’ 
now, and escape the Sands, we’ll find ourselves on the 
coast o* France, or far down the Channel, in the mornin’.” 

“ Thank ’ee for nothin’,” said Job, with a sneer; 
“ next time ye’ve got to give an opinion, wait till it’s 
axed for, an’ keep well out o’ the reach o’ my arm, if ye 
don’t want to keep company with the skipper.” 

Tommy made no reply to this. He did not even look 
as if he had heard it, but, addressing himself to Bunks, 
repeated his warning. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


229 


Bunks was disposed to attach some weight to it at first ; 
but as the compass was destroyed, he had no means of 
ascertaining the truth of what was said, and as Job 
laughed all advice to scorn, and had taken command of 
the vessel, he quietly gave in. 

They soon passed the breakers, and went away with 
the lee gunwale dipping in the water right down the 
Channel. Feeling relieved from immediate danger, the 
murderer once more attempted to catch Tommy, but 
without success. He then went below, and soon after 
came on deck with such a flushed face and wild, un- 
steady gaze, that it was evident to his companions he 
had been at the -spirit locker. Jim was inclined to 
rebel now ; but he felt that Job was more than a match 
for him and Bunks. Besides, he was the best seaman 
of the three. 

•‘Don’t ’ee think we’d better close-reef the tops’l?” 
said Bunks, as Job came on deck ; “ if you’ll take the 
helm, Jim and me will lay out on the yard.” 

There was truly occasion for anxiety. During the 
last hour the gale had increased, and the masts were 
almost torn out of the little vessel as she drove before it. 
To turn her side to the wind would have insured her 
being thrown on her beam-ends. Heavy seas were con- 
stantly breaking over the stern, and falling with such 
weight on the deck that Tommy expected to see them 
stove in and the vessel swamped. In other circumstances 
the boy would have been first to suggest reefing the sails, 
and first to set the example ; but he felt that his life 
depended that night (under God) on his watchfulness 
and care. 

“ Reef tops’l ! ” cried Job, looking fiercely at Bunks 

20 


230 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


— “no, we shan’t; there’s one reef in’t, an* that ’a 
enough.” 

Bunks shuddered, for he saw, by the glare of the mur- 
derer’s eyes, that the evil deed, coupled with his deep 
potations, had driven him mad. 

“ P’raps it is,” said Bunks, in a submissive voice ; 
“ but it may be as well to close reef, ’cause the weather 
don’t seem like to git better.” 

Job turned with a wild laugh to Tommy : — 

“ Here, boy, go aloft and reef tops’l ; d’ye hear ? ” 

Tommy hesitated. 

“ If you don’t,” said Job, hissing out the words in the 
extremity of his passion, and stopping abruptly, as if 
unable to give utterance to his feelings. 

“Well, what if I don’t?” asked the boy, sternly. 

“ Why, then — ha, ha, ha ! — why, I’ll do it myself.” 

With another fiendish laugh Job sprang into the 
rigging, and was soon out upon the topsail-yard busy 
with the reef-points. 

“ Why, he’s shakin’ out the reef,” cried Jim, in alarm. 
“ I’ve half a mind to haul on the starboard brace, and 
try to shake the monster into the sea ! ” 

Job soon shook out the reef, and, descending swiftly 
by one of the backstays, seized the topsail-halyards. 

“ Come, lay hold,” he cried, savagely. 

But no one would obey ; so, uttering a curse upon his 
comrades, he passed the rope round a stanchion, and with 
his right hand partially hoisted the sail, while with his 
left he hauled in the slack of the rope. 

The vessel, already staggering under much too great a 
press of canvas, now rushed through the water with 
terrific speed, burying her bows in foam at one moment, 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


231 


and hurling off clouds of spray at the next, as she held 
on her wild course. Job stood on the bowsprit drenched 
with spray, holding with one hand to the forestay, and 
waving the other high above his head, cheering and 
yelling furiously, as if he were daring the angry sea to 
come on, and do its worst. 

Jim, now unable to speak or act from terror, clung to 
the starboard bulwarks, while Bunks stood manfully at 
the helm. Tommy held on to the mainmast shrouds, 
and gazed earnestly and anxiously out ahead. 

Thus they flew, they knew not whither, for several 
hours that night. 

Towards morning, a little before daybreak, the gale 
began to moderate. Job’s mood had changed. His 
wild yelling fit had passed away, and he now ranged 
about the decks in moody silence, like a chained tiger ; 
going down every now and then to drink, but never 
resting for a moment, and always showing by his looks 
that he had his eye on Tommy Bogey. 

The poor boy knew this well, and watched him intently 
the whole of that terrible night. 

Bunks, who had never once quitted his post, began to 
yawn, and suggested to Jim that he might take a spell 
at the helm now, when the progress of the schooner was 
suddenly arrested with a shock so violent that those on 
board were hurled prostrate on the deck, the fore-topmast 
snapped and went over the side, carrying the main-top- 
mast and the jib-boom along with it, and the sea made 
a clean breach over the stern, completely sweeping the 
deck. 

Job, who chanced to have gone down below, was 
hurled against the cabin bulkhead, and the glass bottle 


232 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


he held to his lips was shivered to atoms. With his face 
cut and bleeding he sprang up the companion-ladder. 

“ On the rocks ! ” he shouted. 

u On the sand, any how,” answered Bunks. 

“ The boat ! the boat ! she won’t last ten minutes,” 
cried Jim. 

One of the two boats belonging to the “ Butterfly ” 
had been washed away by the last wave ; the other re- 
mained in its place. To this the three men rushed, and 
launched it quickly into the water. Job was first to get 
into it. 

u Jump in ! jump in !” he cried to the others, who were 
prompt enough to obey. 

Tommy Bogey stood motionless and silent, close to 
the mainmast. His face was very pale ; but a stern 
pursing of the lips and compression of the eyebrows 
showed that it was not cowardly fear that blanched his 
cheek. 

“ The boy ! the boy ! ” cried Bunks, as Job let go his 
hold of the schooner. 

A wild, stern laugh from Job showed that he had made 
up his mind to leave Tommy to perish. 

“ Shame ! ” cried Jim, seizing one of the oars ; “ pull, 
Bunks, pull to wind’ard a bit ; we’ll drop down, and save 
him yet. Pull, you murderer ! ” shouted 'Jim, with a 
burst of anger so sudden and fierce that Job was cowed. 
He sat down and obeyed. 

The boat was very small, and might have been easily 
pulled by so strong a crew in ordinary circumstances ; 
but the strength of wind and sea together was so great 
that they were in great danger of being swamped, and 
it required their utmost efforts to pull a few yards to 
windward of the schooner. 


T II E LIFEBOAT. 


233 


4i Now, then, look out ! ” cried Jim, endeavoring to 
turn the boat. 

As he said this a wave caught its side and upset it. 
The men uttered a loud cry : a moment later, and they 
were swept against the bow of the “ Butterfly.” Tommy 
had sprung to the side, caught up a rope, and cast it 
over. Bunks did not see it ; he made a wild grasp at 
the smooth, wet side of the vessel, but his hands found 
nothing to lay hold of, and he was carried quickly away 
to leeward. Jim caught the rope, but was brought up 
so suddenly by it that it was torn from his grasp, lie 
also went to,leeward, and^erished. 

Job had caught hold of the cutwater, and, digging his 
fingers into the wood, held on by main strength for a few 
minutes. 

“ Here, lay hold o’ the rope,” cried Tommy, whose 
only desire now was to save the life of the wretched man ; 
“ there, don’t you feel it?” 

He had rubbed the rope against Job’s face, in order to 
let him know it was there ; but the man seemed to have 
lost all power to move. He simply maintained his death- 
grip until his strength gave way. Tommy understood 
his case, and looked quickly round for one of those ring- 
shaped life-buoys which we are accustomed to see in our 
passenger steamers, tied up so securely that they would 
in most cases of sudden emergency be utterly useless. 
But the owners of the “ Butterfly ” were economists. 
They did not think life-preserving worth the expenditure 
of a few shillings ; so there was no life-buoy to be found. 
There was a round cork fender, however, which the boy 
seized, and flung into the sea, just as Job’s grasp loos- 
ened. He uttered a wild shriek, and tossed up his arms 
20 * 


234 


T FI E LIFEBOAT. 


imploringly, as he was carried away. The buoy fell 
close beside him, and he caught it. But it was scarce 
sufficient to sustain his weight, and merely prolonged the 
agonizing struggle. Tommy soon lost sight of hiin in 
the darkness. Soon after there arose a wild, fierce cry, 
so loud and strong that it seemed to have been uttered at 
the boy’s elbow. Tommy shuddered, for it suggested the 
idea of a despairing soul. 

He listened intently, and twice again that thrilling cry 
broke on his ear, but each time more faintly. Still he 
continued to listen for it with a feeling of horror, and 
once or twice fancied that he heard it rising above the 
turmoil of wind and waves. Long before he ceased to 
listen in expectancy the murderer’s dead body lay tossing 
in that great watery grave in which so many of the human 
race - — innocent and guilty alike — lie buried. 

Ere long Tommy was called to renewed exertion and 
trial. 

The tide happened to be rising when the schooner 
struck. While the incidents above related were taking 
place, the “ Butterfly ” was being dashed on the sand 
so violently, that her breaking up in the course of a 
short time was a matter of certainty. Tommy knew 
this well, but he did not give way to despair. He re- 
solved not to part with his young life without a struggle, 
and therefore cast about in his mind what was best to be 
done. 

His first idea was to construct a raft. He had just 
begun this laborious work, when the rising tide lifted th£ 
schooner over the sand-bank, and sent her off into deep 
water. This raised Tommy’s hopes and spirits to an 
unnaturally high pitch ; he trimmed the foresail — the 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


235 


only one left — as well as he could, and then, seizing the 
tiller, Kept the vessel running straight before the wind. 

Standing thus at the helm he began to reflect on his 
position, and the reflection did not tend to comfort him. 
He was out in a gale, on the stormy sea, without com- 
panions, without compass to guide him, and steering he 
knew not whither, — possibly on rocks or shoals. This 
latter idea induced him to attempt to lie to till daybreak ; 
but the crippled condition of the schooner rendered this 
impossible. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to 
run before the gale. 

In a short time his attention was attracted to a pecu- 
liar sound in the hold. On examination he found that 
the vessel had sprung a leak, and that the water was 
rising slowly, but steadily. The poor boy’s heart sank, 
and for the first time his courage began to give way ; but 
quickly recovering himself, he lashed the helm in position, 
and manfully set to work at the pump. He was some- 
what relieved to find that the leak was small. In au 
hour he had pumped out nearly all the water. Then he 
returned to the helm, and rested there for an hour, at the 
end of which time the water in the hold had increased so 
much that he had to ply the pump again. 

The day broke while he was thus engaged ; but the 
morning was so thick that he could see no land. On re- 
turning to the helm the second time, Tommy felt that this 
state of things could not go on much longer. The ex- 
citement, the watching, the horrors of the past night 
were beginning to tell on him. His muscles were ex- 
hausted, and he felt an irresistible desire to sleep. He 
struggled against this till about noon, by which time the 
wind had moderated to a steady breeze, and the sun shone 
through the mist, as if to cheer him up a little. 


236 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


He had eaten nothing for many hours, as he did not 
dare to quit his post to go below for food, lest the 
schooner should come suddenly on some other vessel, 
and be run down. Hunger and exhaustion, however, 
soon rendered him desperate ; he ran below, seized a 
handful of biscuit, filled a can with water, and returned 
hastily on deck to break his fast. It was one of the 
sweetest meals he ever ate, and refreshed him so much 
that he was able to go on alternately steering and pump- 
ing till late in the afternoon. Then he suddenly broke 
down. Exhausted nature could bear up no longer. He 
lashed the helm, pumped out the water in the hold for 
the last time, and went below to rest. 

He was half asleep as he descended the companion- 
ladder. A strange and sad, yet dreamy feeling, that 
everything he did was “ for the last time,” weighed 
heavily on his spirit ; but this was somehow relieved by 
the knowledge that he was now, at last, about to rest 1 
There was delight in that simple thought, though there 
mingled with it a feeling that the rest would terminate 
in death ; he lay down to sleep with a feeling that he 
lay down to die, and a half-formed prayer escaped his 
lips as his wearied head fell upon the pillow. 

Instantly he was buried in deep repose. 

The sun sank in the ocean, the stars came out and 
spangled all the sky, and the moon rose and sank again ; 
but Tommy lay, regardless of everything, in profound 
slumber. Again the sun arose, on a sea so calm that it 
seemed like oil, ascended into the zenith, and sank 
towards its setting. Still the boy continued to sleep, his 
young head resting quietly on the pillow of the dead 
skipper ; his breath coming gently and regularly through 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


237 


the half-opened lips that smiled as if he were resting in 
peace on his mother’s bosom. 

Being dashed on the rocks, or run into by steamers, 
or whelmed in the waves, were ideas that troubled him 
not ; or, if they did, they were connected only with the 
land of dreams. Thus the poor boy rested calmly in 
the midst of danger, — yet in safety, for the arm of God 
was around him. 





CHAPTER XVin. 


A new scene breaks upon us now, patient reader. We 
are among the .antipodes, in that vast and wonderful re- 
gion where the kangaroo -reigns in the • wilderness, and 
gold is sown .broadcast in the land. Thevmen we see 
are, to a large extent, the same men we saw before leav- 
ing the shores of Old England — but they are. wonder- 
fully changed. Red flannel shirts, long boots, leathern 
belts, felt hats, and unshorn chins meet us at every turn ; 
so do barrows, and pickaxes, and shovels. It, seems as 
if we had got into a region inhabited solely by navvies. 
Many of them, however, appear to be very gentlemanly 
navvies. 

There are no-ladies here — *■ scarcely^ an;y females at all ; 
for we have left the thriving settlements o£ Australia far 
behind us, and are now -wandering over the Daisy Hill 
gold-diggings. The particular section of that busy spot 
to which our attention is. directed at this moment, is 
named the “ Kangaroo Flats.” 

None but strong men can get on here. Let us go for- 
ward, and see how they obtain this-yellow metal that 
turns the world- upside down ! 

Here is a man issuing from a Jhole in the earth close at 
our feet, like a huge ground squirrel. He is tall, stout, 
and fair, with broad shoulders, and a fine, manly counte- 
nance, which is ornamented by a thick beard and mus- 
tache of glossy r yellow hair. The silken, curly hair of 
this man, contrasted with his great size and manliness, is 


T II E LIFEBOAT. 


239 


very striking. He seats himself on a mass of clay, wipes 
the perspiration from his forehead, and shouts to some 
one down in the earth, — 

u Hallo ! Jack, let’s hoist out the stuff now.” 

“ Ay, ay, Harry,” replies a strong voice, with a sailor- 
like ring in it, from below, “ I’ll be on deck in a jiffy.” 

Let us .descend, and look at this miner. The hole is 
Harrow and deep ; at the bottom of it is a dark tunnel 
two feet broad, between two and three feet high, and 
twenty-five feet long. At the farther, extremity of it 
crouches a man with a pickaxe in his hands, and a can- 
dle beside him. It is a very awkward position in which 
to work, and the result is, that this man pants, and blows, 
and sighs, and sometimes laughs quietly to himself at the 
comicality of his attitudes, while the perspiration pours 
over his face in largo, beads continuously. It seems very 
hard work, and so, indeed, it is ; but the man is an un- 
usually big and strong fellow 7— larger, even, than his fair 
companion above,ground. His hair is„short, black, and 
curly, as are his beard and whiskers ; but at this moment 
his whole head and face are so besmeared with clay that 
his aspect is. piebald, and not more becoming than his 
attitude. Still, there is a massive grandeur in the out- 
line of his features which cannot be destroyed by incrus- 
tations of clay, although his complexion is obscured by it. 

Like his comrade above, his costume consists of flan- 
nel shirt, dark trousers, and big boots. His shirt-sleeves 
being rolled up to the shoulders, display a pair of arms 
that a sculptor might gaze on with admiration. 

This strong man pants and gasps more than ever with 
the heat as he drives the pick and tears up the earth for 
gold. Presently the candle burns dim ; the air is getting 
foul. 


240 


TIIE 


LIFEBOAT. 


“ Hallo ! the candle ’s going out,” cries the dark miner, 
scrambling towards the bottom of the shaft on his hands 
and knees. 

Ha ! time to take a mouthful o’ fresh air, Jack,” re- 
marks the fair miner, looking into the hole. 

In another moment a wild, dishevelled, clay-bespat- 
tered figure comes to the surface, rises like a giant out 
of the earth, and the countenance and proportions of our 
friend John Bax are revealed, in spite of the strange cos- 
tume, and black mustache and beard, and incrustations 
of clay which more than half disguise him. 

“ Whew ! how hot it is ! ” said Bax, as he stepped out 
of the hole. 

“ You may say that,” observed his friend, rising ; “ but 
come along, Jack ; let’s get up the stuff, and wash out as 
much as we can before dinner. Mind, you’ve got to write 
home this afternoon, and won’t be able to help me much 
in the evening.” 

u Come along, then,” said Bax, going to work again 
with redoubled energy. 

There was a windlass over the hole by which the clay 
was raised to the surface. Bax wrought at this, and his 
mate went below to fill the buckets. Then they washed 
it out, and flooded away cart-loads of worthless soil, until 
a small residue of clear, shining particles remained be- 
hind. This they gathered carefully together, added it 
to the bag that held their fortune, remarked that there 
were “ no nuggets this time,” and that it was u hard work 
and little pay ; ” after which they flung down their tools, 
washed their hands and faces, and went into their tent to 
dine. 

Thus did Bax and his mate (an old acquaintance un- 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


241 


expectedly met with after arrival in Australia) dig, and 
sweat, and toil for gold. 

But Bax and his- friend worked thus hard only because 
it was their nature so to -work at whatever their hands 
found to do. They had not set their hearts upon the 
gold. 

Aff£r dinner Harry went out to drive his pick and 
shovel. Bax remained in the tent to drive the quill. 

That night the two friends lay chatting and smoking 
in their tent, after supper, with a solitary candle between 
them, and the result of the day’s work — a small pile of 
shining dust — before them. 

“We’ll not make our fortunes at this rate,” observed 
Harry, with a sigh. 

“ There’s no saying what good fortune may be in store 
for us,” observed Bax ; “ but put away the gold ; it will 
do us no .good to gaze at it.” 

Harry rolled the little heap in a piece of paper, and 
tossed it into the leathern bag which contained their 
earnings. 

“ Come, now,” said he, replenishing his pipe, “ let’s 
hear the letter v Bax — who d’ya say’s the friend you’ve 
written to ? ” 

“ He’s a .boy,” said Bax, “ Tommy Bogey by name, 
of which name, by the way, he has no reason to be 
proud ; but he’s a. first-rate fellow, and L fear will have 
set me down as a faithless friend, for I left him without 
saying goodjby, and the letter I wrote to him on my ar- 
rival here went to the bottom with the unfortunate ship 
that carried it. However, here is the epistle. I’m open 
to correction, Harry, if you think any part of it not ship- 
shape.” 


21 


242 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“ All right,” said Harry ; “go ahead.” 

Bax read as follows : — 

♦‘Kangaroo Flats, Daisy Hill Dicgixgs, ) 
Australia, 10<A January , 18 — . S 

“ My dear Tommy : The mail is just about to leave 
us ; so I write to let you know where I am, and what 
doing; also to tell you that I have just heard of the 
wreck of the ship that conveyed my first letter to you, 
which will account for my apparent neglect. 

“ Gold-digging is anything but a paying affair, I find, 
and it’s the hardest work I’ve ever had to do. I have 
only been able to pay my way up to this time. Every- 
thing is fearfully dear. After deducting the expenses of 
the last week for cartage, sharpening picks, etc., I and 
my mate have just realized fifteen shillings each ; and 
this is the first week we have made anything at all be- 
yond what was required for our living. However, we 
live and work on in the hope of turning up a nugget or 
finding a rich claim, singing, — though we can’t exactly 
believe, — 4 There’s a good time coming.’ ” 

Here Bax paused. “ I won’t read the next paragraph,” 
said he, with a smile, 44 because it’s aboutyourself, Harry ; 
so I’ll skip.” 

Nevertheless, reader, as we wish you to hear that pas- 
sage, we will make Bax read on. 

“ My mate, Harry Benton, is an old schoolfellow, 
whom I met with accidentally in Melbourne. We joined 
at once, and have been together ever since. I hope that 
nothing may occur to part us. You would like him, 
Tommy. You’ve no idea what a fine, gentle, lion like 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


243 


fellow he is, with a face like a true, bold man in expres- 
sion, and like a beautiful woman in form. I’m not up to 
pen-and-ink description, Tommy, but I think you’ll un- 
derstand me when I say lie’s got ar splendid' figure-head, 
a strong-frame, and a warm heart. 

“ Poor fellow, he has had much sorrow since he came 
out here. He is a widower, and brought out his little 
daughter with him, an only child, whose sweet face was 
once like sunshine in our tent. Not long ago this pretty 
flower of the desert sickened, drooped, and died, with 
her fair head on her father’s bosom. For a long time 
afterwards Harry was inconsolable ; but he took to read- 
ing the Bible, and the effect of that has been wonderful. 
We read it regularly every night together, and no one 
can tell what comfort we have in it, for I, too, have had 
sorrow of a kind which you could not well understand, 
unless I were to go into an elaborate explanation. I 
believe that both of us can say, in the words of King 
David, 4 It was good for me that I was afflicted.’ 

44 1 should like very much that you and he might meet. 
Perhaps you' may one of these days ! But, to go on with 
my account of our life and doings here.” 

It was at this point that Bax continued to read the 
letter aloud. 

44 The weather is tremendously warm. It is now (10th 
January) the height of summer, and the sun is unbear- 
able, — quite as. hot as in-India, I am told, — especially 
when the hot winds blow. Among other evils, we are 
tormented with thousands of fleas. Harry stands them 
worse than I do.” [ a Untrue ! ” interrupted Harry. J 
44 But/their cousins, the-flies, are, if possible, even- more 


244 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


exasperating. They resemble our own house-flies in 
appearance — would that they were equally harmless ! 
Myriads of millions don’t express their numbers, more 
than ten expresses the number of the stars. They are 
the most persevering brutes you ever saw. They creep 
into your eyes, run up your nose, and plunge into your 
mouth. Nothing will shake them off, and the. mean, des- 
picable creatures take special advantage of us when our 
hands are occupied in carrying buckets of gold-dust, or 
what, alas ! ought to be, gold-dust, but isn’t ! On such 
occasions we shake our heads, wink our eyes, and snort 
and blow at them, but all to no purpose — there they 
stick and creep, till we get our hands free to attack 
them. 

“ A change must be coming over the weather soon, for, 
while I write, the wind is blowing like a gale out of a 
hot oven, and is shaking the tent so that I fear it will 
come down about my ears. It is a curious fact that 
these hot winds always blow from the- north, which -in- 
clines me to think there must be large sandy deserts in 
the interior of this vast continent. We don’t feel the 
heat through the day, except when we are at the wind- 
lass, drawing up the pipe-clay, or while washing our 
‘ stuff,’ for we are generally below ground ‘ driving.’ 
But, although not so hot as above, it is desperately warm 
there, too, and the air is bad. 

“ Our ‘ drives ’ are two and a half feet high by about 
two feet broad at the floor, from which they widen a lit- 
tle towards the top. As I am six feet three in my stock- 
ings, and Harry is six feet one, besides being, both of us, 
broader across the shoulders than most men, you may 
fancy that we get into all sorts of shapes while working, 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


245 


All the 4 stuff* that we drive out we throw away, except 
about six inches on the top, where the gold lies, so that 
the quantity of mullock, as we call it, or useless material, 
hoisted out is very great. There are immense*heaps of 
it lying at the mouth of our hole. If we chose to liken 
ourselves to gigantic moles, we have reason to be proud 
of our mole-hills ! All this ‘ stuff* has to be got along 
the drives, some of which are twenty-five feet in length 
One of us stands at the top, and hoists the stuff up the 
shaft in buckets. The other sits and fills them at the 
bottom. 

“ This week we have taken out three cart-loads of 
washing stuff, which we fear will produce very little 
gold. Of course it is quite dark in the drives ; so we 
use composition candles. Harry drives in one direction, 
I in another, and we hammer away from morning till 
night. The air is often bad, but not explosive. When 
the candles burn low, and go out, it is time for us to go 
out too, and get fresh air ; for it makes us blow terribly, 
and gives us sore eyes. Three fourths of the people 
here are suffering from sore eyes ; the disease is worse 
this season than it has been in the memory of the oldest 
diggers. 

“We have killed six or seven snakes lately. They 
are very numerous, and the only things in the country 
we are absolutely -afraid of! You have no idea of the 
sort of dread one feels on coming slap upon one, unex- 
pectedly. Harry put his foot on one yesterday, but got 
no hurt. They are not easily seen, and their bite is al- 
ways fatal. 

u From all this you will see that a gold-digger’s life is 
a hard one, and, worse than that, it does not pay welL 
21 * 


246 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


However, 1 like it in the mean time, and having taken it 
up, I shall certainly give it a fair trial. 

“ I wish you were here, Tommy ; yet I am glad 
you are not. To have you and Guy in the tent 
would make our party perfect, but it would try your 
constitutions, I fear, and do you no good mentally, 
for the society by which we are surrounded is anything 
but select. 

“ But enough of the gold-fields. I have a lot of ques- 
tions to ask, and messages to send to my old friends and 
mates at Deal.” 

At this point the reading of the letter was in- 
terrupted by an uproar near the tent. High above 
the noise the voice of a boy was heard in great indig- 
nation. 

For a few minutes Bax and his friend did not move ; 
they were too much accustomed to scenes of violence 
among the miners to think of interfering unless things 
became very serious. 

“ Come, Bill, let him alone,” cried a stern voice ; 
“ the lad’s no thief, as you may see if you look in his 
face.” 

“ I don’t give a straw for looks and faces,” retorted 
Bill, who seemed to have caused the uproar ; u the 
young rascal came peeping into my tent, and that’s 
enough for me.” 

“ What ! ” cried the boy, iq an indignant shout, “ may 
I not search through the_tents to find a friend, without 
being abused by every scoundrel who loves his gold so 
much that he thinks every one who looks at him wants 
to steal it? Let me go, I say ! ” 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


247 


At the first words of this sentence Bax started up with 
a look of intense surprise. Before it was finished he 
had seized a thick stick, and rushed from the tent, fol- 
lowed by his mate. 

In two seconds they reached the centre of a ring 
of disputants, in the midst of which a big, coarse- 
looking miner held by the collar the indignant lad, 
who proved to be an old, and truly unexpected, ac- 
quaintance. 

“ Bax ! ” shouted the boy. 

“ Tommy Bogey ! ” exclaimed Bax. 

“ Off* your hands,” cried Bax, striding forward. 

The miner, who was a powerful man, hesitated. Bax 
seized him by the neck, and sent him head over heels 
into his own tent, which stood behind him. 

“ Serves him right ! ” cried one of the crowd, who ap- 
peared to be delighted with the prospect of a row. 

“ Hear, hear ! ” echoed the rest approvingly. 

“ Can it be you , Tommy ? ” cried Bax, grasping the 
boy by both arms, and stooping to gaze into his 
face. 

“ Found you at last ! ” shouted Tommy, with his eyes 
full, and his face flushed by conflicting emotions. 

“ Come into the tent,” cried Bax, hastening away, and 
dragging his friend after him. 

Tommy did not know whether to laugh or cry. His 
breast was still heaving with recent indignation, and his 
heart was bursting with present joy ; so he gave utter- 
ance to a wild, hysterical cheer, and disappeared behind 
the folds of his friend’s tent, amid the cheers and laugh- 
ter of the miners, who thereafter dispersed quietly to 
their several places of abode. 


248 


T IT E LIFEBOAT. 


“ Tommy,” said Bax, placing the boy directly in front 
of him, on a pile of rough coats and blankets, and staring 
earnestly into his face, “ I don’t believe it’s you ! I’m 
dreaming — that’s what I am ; so the sooner you pinch 
me out of this state the better.” 

. It were vain to attempt to give the broken and dis- 
jointed converse that here took place between the two 
friends. After a time they became more rational, and 
less spasmodic in their talk, and Tommy, at last, conde- 
scended to explain the way in which he had managed to 
get there. 

“ But before I begin,” said he, “ tell me, who’s your 
friend ? ’ 

He turned, as he spoke, to Harry, who, seated on a 
provision cask, with a pleasant smile on his handsome 
face, and a black pipe in his mouth, had been enjoying 
the scene immensely. 

“ Ah, true ! I forgot ; this is my mate, Harry Benton, 
an old schoolfellow. You’ll know more of him, and like 
him better, in course of time.” 

“ I hope he will,” said Harry, extending his hand, 
which Tojnmy grasped, and shook warmly ; “ and I hope 
to become better acquainted with you, Tommy, though, 
in truth, you are no stranger to me, for many a night has 
Bax entertained me, in this tent, with accounts of your 
doings and his own, both by land and sea. Now go on, 
my boy, ancUexplain tlie-mystery. of your suddemappear- 
ance here.” 

“The prime -cause of my - appearance is the faith- 
lessness of Bax,” said Tommy. “Why did you not 
write to me ? ” 

When it was explained that Bax had written by a 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


24S 


vessel which was wrecked, the boy was mollified ; and 
when the letter which had just been written was handed 
to him, he confessed that he had judged his old friend 
hastily. Thereafter he related succinctly his adventures 
in the u Butterfly ” up to the point where we left him 
sound asleep in the skipper’s berth. 

“ How long I slept,” said Tommy, continuing the nar- 
rative, “ I am not quite sure ; but it must have been a 
longish time, for it was somewhere in a Tuesday when 
I lay down, and it was well into a Thursday when I got 
up, or, rather, was -knocked up by the- bow of a thou- 
sand-ton - ship ! It was a calm evening, with just a 
gentle breeze blowin’ at the time, and a little hazy. 
The lookout in the ship did not see the schooner until he 
was close on her ; then he yelled, ‘ Hard a-lee ! * — so I 
was told, for I didn’t hear it, bein’, as I said, sound 
asleep. But I heard and felt what followed plain enough. 
There came a crash like thunder. I was pitched head 
foremost out o’ the berth, and would certainly have got 
my neck broken but for the flimsy table in the cabin, 
which gave way and went to pieces under me, and thus 
broke my fall. I got on my legs, and shot up the com- 
panion like a rocket. I was confused enough, as you 
may suppose ; but I must have guessed at once what 
was wrong, — perhaps the rush of water told it me, 1 — 
for I leaped instantly over the side, into the sea, to avoid 
being sucked down by the sinking vessel. Down it went, 
sure enough ; and I was so near it, that, in spite of my 
struggles, I was carried down a long way, and all but 
choked. However, up I came again like a cork. You 
always said I was light-headed, Bax, and I do believe 
that was the reason I came up so soon ! 


250 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“ Well, I swam about for ten minutes or so, when 
a boat rowed up to the place. It had been lowered 
by the ship that ran me down. I was picked up, and 
taken aboard, and found that she was bound for Aus- 
tralia ! ” 

“ Ha ! that just suited you, I fancy,” said Bax. 

“ Of course it did ; but that’s not all. Who d’ye 
think the ship -belonged to? You’ll never guess; — to 
your old -employers, Denham, Crumps, and Co.! She 
is named the ‘ Trident,’ after the one that was lost, and 
old Denham insisted on her sailing on a Friday. The 
sailors said she would be sure to go to the bottom ; but 
they were wrong, for we all got safe to Melbourne, after 
a very good voyage. 

“Well, I’ve little more to tell now. On reaching Mel- 
bourne, I landed — ” 

“ Without a sixpence in your pocket ? ” asked 
Bax. 

“ By no means,” said Tommy ; “ I had five golden 
sovereigns sewed up in the waistband of my trousers, 
not to mention a silver watch, like a saucepan, given to 
me by old Jeph, at parting, and a brass ring that I got 
from Bluenose ! But it’s wonderful how fast this melted 
away in Melbourne. It was half gone before I suc- 
ceeded in finding out what part of the country you had 
gone to. The rest of it I paid to a party of miners, 
who chanced to be coming here, for leave to travel and 
feed with them. They left me in the- lurch, however, 
about two days’ walk from this place, relieving me of 
the watch at- parting, but permitting me to keep the 
ring, as a memorial of the pleasant journey we had had 
together ! Then the rascals left me with provisions 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


251 


sufficient for one meal. So I came on alone, ar,d now 
present myself to you, half-starved and a beggar ! ” 

u Here is material to appease your hunger, lad,” 
said Harry Benton, with a laugh, as he tossed a mass of 
flour cake, known among diggers as “ damper,” towards 
the boy. 

“ And here,” added Bax, pitching a small bag of 
gold-dust into his lap, “ is material to deliver you from 
beggary, at least for the present. As for the future, 
Tommy, your own stout arms must do the rest. You’ll 
live in our tent, and we’ll make a gold-digger of you in 
a couple of days. I could have wished you better 
fortune, lad, but, as you have managed to make your 
way to this out-o’-the-way place, I suppose you’ll want 
to remain.” 

“ I believe you, my boy ! ” said Tommy, with his 
mouth full of damper. 

So Tommy Bogey remained with his friends at the 
Kangaroo Flats, and dug for gold. 

For several years they stuck to the laborious work, 
during which time they dug up just enough to keep 
themselves in food and clothing. They were unlucky 
diggers. Indeed, this might have been said of most of 
the diggers around them. Those who made fortunes, 
by happening to find rich spots of ground, were very 
few compared with the host of those who came with 
light hearts, hoping for heavy pockets, and went away 
with heavy hearts and light pockets. 

We shall not follow the fortunes of those three 
during their long period of exile. The curtain was 
lifted in order that the reader might take a glance at 
them in the far-off land. They are a pleasant trio to 


252 


TUB LIFEBOAT. 


look upon. They do not thirst feverishly for the pre* 
cious metal, as many do. Their nightly reading of th® 
Word saves them from that. Nevertheless, they work 
hard, earn little, and sleep soundly. As we drop the 
curtain, they are still toiling and moiling, patiently, 
heartily, and hopefully, for gold. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


There came a- day, at last, in which foul air and con- 
finement, and- money-making, began to tell on the consti- 
tution of Mr. Denham ; to disagree with him, in fact. 
The rats began to miss him, occasionally, from Red- 
wharf Lane, at the wonted hour, and, no doubt, gos- 
siped a good deal on the subject over their evening 
meals, after the labors and depredations of the day were 
ended. 

They observed, too (supposing them to have been capa- 
ble of observation), that when Mr. Denham did come 
to his office, he came with a pale face and an enfeebled 
step ; also with a thick shawl wrapped round his neck. 
These peculiarities were so far taken advantage of by 
the rats that they ceased to fly with their wonted pre- 
cipitancy when his step was heard, and in course of time 
they did not even dive into their holes as in former days, 
but sat close to them, and waited until the merchant had 
passed, knowing w4ll that he was not capable of running 
at them. One large young rat, in particular, — quite a 
rattling blade in his way, — at length became so bold 
that he stood his ground one forenoon, and deliberately 
stared at Mr. Denham as he tottered up to the office 
door. 

We notice- this fact because it -occurred on the memo- 
rable -day when Mr. Denham admitted to himself that 
he was breaking down, and that something must be done 
to set him up again. He thought, as he sat at his desk, 
22 ( 253 ) 


254 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


leaning his head on his right hand, that sea air might do 
him good, and the idea of a visit to his sister at Deal 
flitted across his mind ; but, remembering that he had 
for many years treated that sister with frigid indiffer- 
ence, and that he had dismissed her son Guy harshly 
and without sufficient reason from his employment a few 
years ago, he came to the conclusion that Deal was not 
a suitable locality. Then he thought of Margate and 
Ramsgate, and even ventured to contemplate the Scotch 
Highlands ; but his energy being exhausted by illness, he 
could not make up his mind ; so he sighed, and felt 
supremely wretched. 

Had there been any one at his elbow to suggest a 
plan of some sort, and urge him to carry it out, he 
would have felt relieved and grateful. But plans for 
our good are usually suggested and urged by those who 
love us ; and Denham, being a bachelor and a misan- 
thrope, happened to have no one to love him. He was 
a very rich man, very rich indeed, — and would have 
given a great deal of- gold at that moment for a very 
small quantity -of love ; but love is " not a -marketable 
commodity. Denham knew that, and sighed again. He 
felt that in reference to this thing he was a beggar, and, 
for the first time in his life, experienced something of a 
beggar’s despair. 

While he sat thus, musing bitterly, there came a tap 
at the door. 

“ Come in.” 

The tapper came in, and presented to the astonished 
gaze of Mr. Denham the handsome face and figure of 
Guy Foster. 

“ I trust you will forgive my intrusion, uncle,” said 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


255 


Guy in apologetic tones, as he advanced with a rathei 
hesitating step, “ but I am the bearer of a message from 
my mother.” 

Denham had looked up in surprise, and with a dash 
of sternness ; but the expression passed into one of sad- 
ness mingled with suffering. He pointed to a chair, 
and said curtly, “ Sit down,” as he replaced his fore- 
head on his hand, and partially concealed his haggard 
face. 

“ I am deeply grieved, dear uncle,” continued Guy, 
“ to see you looking so very ill. I do sincerely 
hope—” 

“Your message?” interrupted Denham. 

“ My mother having heard frequently of late that you 
are far from well, and conceiving that the fresh air of 
Deal might do you good, has sent me to ask you to be 
our guest for a time. It would afford us very great 
pleasure, I assure you, uncle.” 

Guy paused here, but Mr. Denham did not speak. 
The^-kindness of the unexpected and certainly unmerited 
invitation r put, as it was, in tones which expressed 
great earnestness and regard, took him aback. He 
felt-ill at ease, and his wonted self-possession forsook 
him. Probably much of this was- owing to physical 
weakness. 

“ Come,- uncle,” said Guy, affectionately, “ you won’t 
refuse us? We all live together in the cottage now, but 
we don’t quite fill it ; there is still one room to spare, 
and my wife will be delighted to — ” 

“ Your wife ! ” exclaimed Denham in amazement. 

“ Yes, uncle,” replied Guy in some surprise. “ Did 
you not get our cards ? ” 


2o6 


TIIE LIFEBOAT. 


Mr. Denham rested his forehead again in his hand 
in some confusion, for he remembered having received a 
letter long ago, the address of which he knew to be in 
his nephew’s hand, and supposing it to be an application 
to be taken back into theoffice, he had tossed it into the 
fire without opening it. Feeling much perplexed, he said, 
“ O, ah, — what is the lady’s name?” 

u Lucy Burton was her maiden name,” said Guy ; 
“ she is the daughter of an Independent minister, who 
was formerly a Scripture reader in Ramsgate.” 

“ Humph ! ” ejaculated Denham. “ Pray, may I ask 
what your profession is- now ? ” 

“ I am -cashier in the office of a very intimate friend 
of ours — Mr. Summers.” 

“ What ! the house with which we do so much busi- 
ness ? ” 

u The same,” said Guy, with a smile ; “ but tell me, 

uncle, will you come and stay with us ? Do say you 

will, if it were only for a week or two.” 

“ I’ll- think of it, nephew.” 

Mr. Denham did- think of it. More than that, he 

went, and said he would stay a week. He staid a 

week, and found himself in such comfortable quarters 
that he resolved to stay a fortnight. He did so, and 
then agreed to remain su-month. Finally, it became 
a standing joke with Bluenose, who was a frequent 
visitor at the cottage kitchen, that he (Denham) was 
no better than the -play-actors, who were always at 
their “ last week but one,” and never could get any 
farther. 

But Mr. Denham’s health did not improve. He had 
imbibed so much tar, and fog, and filth through his 


THE LIFEBOAT . 


257 


nostrils, that liis constitution could not recover from the 
effects, and at last it began to- dawn upon him that 
health was of -greater -value than gold ; that the accu- 
mulation of .wealth was not the main object for which 
man had been created ; that there was a future igfregard 
to which it would be well that he should now make 
some vinquiries. 

Here Mr. Denham turned, by a sort of instinct, to 
Amy. Russel, whose face w r as like a beam of sunshiue 
in Sandhill Cottage, and whose labors among the poor 
and the afflicted showed that she regarded life in this 
world as a -journey towards a -better ; as an opportu- 
nity of doing .good ; as a ladder leading to a higher and 
happier sphere. In regard to this sphere he (Denham) 
knew next to nothing, except, of course, intellectually. 
Mr. Denham turned to the right quarter for comfort, 
and found it. 

Still the merchant’s- health did not improve; so his 
physicians recommended a sea voyage. At an earlier 
period in his career he would as soon sooner, per- 
haps — have -taken a balloon voyage ; but sickness had 
taught him wisdom. He gave in ; consented to take 
a passage in one of his .own ships, the “ Trident ” 
(which had made several good voyages to Australia), 
and ere long was ploughing over the billows of the 
South Seas on his way to the antipodes. Such is 
life ! 

Wonderful -coincidences are of constant occurrence in 
this world. It chanced that in the same year that Mr. 
Denham made up his mind to take a voyage to Australia 
and back, Bax and Tommy Bogey made up their minds 
to give up digging for gold, and return to their native 
22 * 


2f)8 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


land. Their companion, Harry Benton, preferred to 
remain in the colony. 

Bax and Tommy had only made enough to keep 
themselves alive in the gold-fields until their last year ; 
but during this year they had been more successful. 
They hit on a good 44 claim,” worked it out, and cleared 
two thousand pounds ! With this they resolved ta retire, 
and push their fortunes at- home. Believing that they 
could realize more by- carrying their gold home in dust 
and nuggets than by selling it in the. colony, they had 
it packed in boxes, and took it aboard ship along with 
them. The ship that chanced to be ready to sail for 
England at this time was the 44 Trident,” and almost the 
first face they saw on going aboard was the well-known 
visage of Mr. Denham ! 

Sea air had done him good. He looked strong and 
well, — comparatively. Bax and he started, and gazed 
in surprise on-each other. 

44 How are you ? ” said Denham, with some stiffness 
of manner. 

“ Thank you, very well,” answered Bax. 

Then both men felt and looked a little awkward. 

44 A-hem ! ” coughed Denham. 

44 Hope you’re well, sir? ” said Bax. 

There was little in the words, but there was much 
ii the tone in which this was said. Mr. Denham ad- 
vanced and held out his- hand. Bax shook it warmly. 
They were sufficiently good- friends during the whole 
of that voyage, although there was just enough of re- 
membrance of former days in the breast of each to 
prevent anything like cordiality between them. 

The homeward voyage was prosperous. Favoring 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


259 


gales wafted them on their way. No storms arose 
to cause anxiety to the brave, or to terrify the timid, 
and few incidents worthy of notice occurred until after 
they had doubled the Cape of Good Hope. But soon 
after this they met with an adventure which deserves 
record. 


CHAPTER 1QC. 


On the troubled breast of the Atlantic, a little to the 
southward of that great collection of sea-weed, known by 
the name of the Sargasso Sea, lay a large ship. 

She was in distress, for her flag was hoisted with the 
Union Jack down. The nature of her distress was 
apparent from a column of thick smoke that issued from 
the fore-hatch. The most terrible of all calamities had 
befallen her — she was on fire. 

That she was an emigrant ship was apparent from the 
great number of human beings — men, women, and 
children — who crowded her decks. Before the fire 
broke out she had weathered a severe-gale, the effects 
of which had not yet passed away; for, although there 
was little wind, the waves were still high, and the 
burning ship rolled and plunged heavily. 

How the fire originated no one could tell ; but the 
instant it was discovered, the captain, who was a brave 
and able man, took prompt measures for its extinction. 
But his utmost ' efforts failed of success, because — the 
old story - there was not suitable machinery on board for 
the extinction of fire 1 The owners of this ship, however, 
were not, like too many, utterly regardless of human 
life. On the contrary, they had done a great deal — 
much more than is done by many ship-owners — for the 
comfort and safety of those who had intrusted their lives 
to them. There were boats on board sufficient to carry 
the entire crew and passengers ; and two of these were 
( 260 ) 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


261 


lifeboats. There was also a large supply of life-baoys 
and life-jackets ; the latter being made of cork, in such a 
form that the wearers might be able to work in them 
without inconvenience. But in preparing the ship for 
sea, dire had not been sufficiently considered. There was 
no ' fire-engine aboard. Buckets there were, and these 
were plied with vigor, but, as we have said, without 
success. 

Finding that the fire continued to gain strength, the 
captain ordered the ship to be scuttled ; in other words, 
to be flooded by opening the lower ports and letting the 
sea rush in. The ship was one of those old<East India- 
men, which, in former days, carried-guns and marines, 
like our men-of-war. The ports were soon knocked out, 
and the sea -burst in, foaming and splashing like a mill- 
race when the sluice is drawn, as it swept towards the 
hold, carrying boxes, bulk-heads, loose furniture, and all 
before it. When it poured in a mighty cataract into the 
hold, the terrified multitude that crowded the upper deck 
entertained the hope for a few minutes that the fire would 
certainly be put out. Their hope was quickly crushed, 
for the ship soon gave signs of being water-logged, and 
threatened to settle down, rendering it necessary to close 
the ports before the fire was subdued. 

A wail of despair rose from them when this was done, 
for now they knew that the ship was doomed, and that 
death, in two of its most appalling forms, stared them in 
the face. The scene that followed was heart-rending. 
The more timid among the passengers lost self-command. 
Some fell on their knees, and with bitter cries implored 
God to have mercy on them. Others took passionate 
farewell of each other, or sat clinging to each other io 


262 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


the silence of despair. Many became frantic, rushed 
about the decks and tore their hair, and a few of the 
braver spirits moved calmly and silently about, doing 
anything that required to be done, or coolly making prep- 
aration for the last struggle. 

Among these last were several women, who, sustained 
by the Christian’s hope, went about comforting their 
companions, and calming the poor children. In some 
cases they became the centres of little groups of men and 
women, who listened intently while they read the word 
of God, or joined with them in prayer. Many cursing 
lips had become silent now, or tremblingly attempted to 
call on our Saviour, for the first time, in tamest. 

Meanwhile the officers and crew were not idle. Prepa- 
ration was made to lower the boats. The life-buoys and 
belts were got ready, and everything was done to facili- 
tate the abandoning of the vessel before she should be 
utterly consumed. 

The ordinary ship’s boats were converted into lifeboats 
by the simple contrivance of fastening small empty casks 
all round them under the seats, and a large-sized cask in 
the stern and bow of each. 

As the sea was still running high, the operation of 
lowering was a matter of difficulty and danger. The 
women and children were put into the first boat while it 
hung suspended at the davits. Two men stood by to 
detach the hooks that held the boat by the bow and stern 
the instant she should touch the water. This was the 
moment of danger ; for, if one man should succeed in 
this and the other fail, the inevitable consequence would 
be that the stern or the bow of the boat would be jerked 
into the air, and the people in her hurled intothe sea. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


263 


Four boats were lowered and cast off in safety. The 
fifth, which contained men chiefly, with only two or three 
women and no children, was upset. The man in the bow 
could not detach his hook ; it remained fast while the 
stern hook was cast off ; and when the ship rose it hung 
suspended by the bow. Instantly the people in her were 
struggling in the waves. The captain, knowing that this 
might occur, had ordered a dozen of the strongest of his 
men to put on cork life-belts, and stand in the main 
chains to be in readiness. These at once leaped into the 
sea, and supported the people, until another boat was 
lowered for them. But a misfortune here befell them. 
While one of the boats was swinging, it was dashed 
against the ship’s side so violently as to be stove in and 
rendered useless. This accident happened also to another 
boat, so that, even by overloading those that remained, 
it would now be impossible to accommodate every one. 

In this dilemma the captain at once gave orders to 
heave overboard all the spare spars and the hen-coops, 
together with enough of cordage for the construction of 
a raft. This was promptly done, and the raft was sufli 
ciently far advanced in the course of an hour to admit 
of the emigrants being placed upon it. 

It was during the formation of this raft that the great 
value of the life-belts became manifest. While the 
spars were in a loose and half-fastened state, the men 
were obliged to work in the water. To have dor^ this 
without the support of the belts would have been very 
exhausting, almost impossible ; but with their floating 
power the men could work with both hands, and move 
about almost as freely in the water as on land. 

The life-buoys were also of the greatest value at this 


264 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


time ; for the burning ship became so hot before the raft 
was ready, that the passengers were obliged to jump 
overboard and get upon it as they best could, or float 
about until there was room for them all. In these cir- 
cumstances the buoys were the means of saving the lives 
of some who could not swim. 

It was late in the evening when the raft was com- 
menced, and night was far advanced before it was com- 
pleted. During all this time the boats remained close to 
it, after having hauled it a short distance from the burn- 
ing ship, which latter was now a mass of flame from the 
deck to the mast-heads, rendering the whole scene as 
bright as day. After the rigging was consumed, and the 
masts had fallen over the side, the hull continued to 
burn for a considerable time, with less flame, but with a 
dull red glow that afforded sufficient light to the workers. 
It was fortunate the light lasted so long, for the night 
was so dark that it would otherwise have been almost 
impossible to have worked at the raft — tossed and rolled 
about as it was by the heavy sea. 

It was a strange, weird sight, that busy, glowing scene 
of disaster out upon the black ocean at midnight ; and 
wonderful — unaccountable — did it appear in the eyes 
of the night-watch on board the “ Trident,” as that ship 
came over the sea, ploughing up the water before a 
steady breeze which had sprung up soon after the sun 
went down. 

“ What can it be ? ” said Mr. Denham to the captain, 
when they first observed the light on the horizon. 

“ A steamer, perhaps,” replied the captain. 

“ No steamer ever spouted fire like that,” said Bax, 
who was the only other passenger on deck, all the others 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


265 


having gone to rest. “ The steamers on the American 
lakes and rivers do indeed spout sparks and flames of 
fire like giant squibs ; but then they burn wood. Ocean 
steamers never flare up like that. I fear it is a ship on 
fire.” 

“ Think you so? Steer straight for it, captain,” said 
Mr. Denham, whose heart, under the influence of bad 
health, and, latterly, of considerable experience in the 
matter of-human suffering, had become a little softer than 
it used to be. 

The ship’s course was altered, and long before the 
wreck was reached, her decks swarmed with men and 
women who had got up in haste at the first mention of 
the word 4 *fire,” — some of them with a confused notion 
that their own vessel was in danger ! 

It was, indeed, a novel and terribly interesting sight to 
most of those on.board the u Trident.” At first they saw 
the burning vessel like a red meteor rising on the waves 
and disappearing in the hollows ; then the flames grew 
fierce, and spread a halo round the doomed ship that 
shone out vividly against the surrounding darkness. This 
latter was rendered intensely deep by contrast with the 
light. Then the masts went over the side, and a bright 
volume of sparks and scattered tongues of flame shot up 
into the sky, after which the hull shone like a glow-worm 
until they drew quite .near. The busy workers at the 
raft were too anxiously- intent on their- occupation to 
observe the approach of the V Trident,” whose black hull 
was nearly invisible, and whose small lanterns might 
well have been overlooked on such an occasion. 

“ They don’t^ee us,” observed Mr. Denham. 

This was abundantly: evident. Within the circle of~ 

23 


266 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


red light they could see the raft, and the boats floating 
close to it ; the men, in cork jackets, toiling in the water 
and on floating spars, with ropes, handspikes, and axes. 
It was not until the “Trident” herself came within the 
circle of light, and hove to, with flapping sails, that the 
people in the boats became aware of her presence. 

Then, indeed, there arose a shout of joy such as could 
be uttered only by men and women snatched suddenly 
and unexpectedly from thb very jaws of death. Again 
and again it burst forth, and was replied to by the people 
in the “ Trident,” many of whom were so excited by the 
scene, and so overjoyed at the thought of having come 
up in time to save so many human beings, that they burst 
into tears ; while others went down on their knees and 
thanked God fervently. 

Seeing that the people were getting excited, and know- 
ing that order must be preserved, if the work that lay 
before them was to be done speedily and without acci- 
dent, the captain sprang into the rigging, ordered the 
women and children to go below, and assured the male 
passengers that if any of them showed a disposition to be 
obstinate or unruly, they, also, should be ordered below. 
This had the desired effect. Order was at once restored, 
and the captain then called for volunteers, from among 
the stoutest of those on board, to go into the chains and 
lift the women and children out of the boats. 

The appeal was responded to by all the strong men in 
the ship — foremost and strongest among whom was our 
friend Bax. From among these the captain selected the 
men that seemed best able for the work they undertook 
to do ; and this, be it understood, was no child’s play. 

The state of the sea rendered it extremely difficult and 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


267 


dangerous to bring the boats alongside, heavily laden as 
they were with human beings. To get the men on board 
would be difficult enough, even although they would in 
most cases be able to spring, and lay hold of ropes, and 
otherwise help themselves ; but to get out the women and 
children by such means was not to be thought of. The 
men of the “ Trident ” who had the- strongest arms and 
chests, were, therefore, sent into the chains, where they 
leaned forward in- slings, with outstretched arms, and 
whenever the boats sheered up close enough they caught 
women or children in their vice-like grasp, and dragged 
them on board. 

Bax, owing to his unusual strength and breadth of 
shoulders, was peculiarly fitted for this laborious duty. 
His long reach of arm enabled him to stretch far beyond 
the others, and, in several instances, he caught hold of 
and rescued women after his companions had failed. 
Thus a much larger portion of the work fell upon him 
than on any of the others. 

In this sort of work Tommy Bogey was of no use 
whatever ; and severely did his youth and want of phys- 
ical strength press upon his spirits that night, poor boy ! 
But Tommy’s nature would not allow him to sit down 
and do nothing. Feeling that he could not do manly 
work, he set himself with right good will to womanly 
employment. He assisted in carrying the children below, 
when they were handed over the side, helped to strip 
them, and brought dry clothing and blankets, besides 
doing an immense amount of what may be termed stew- 
ardess’ work for the poor ladies. There were others on 
board who worked willingly and well, but none who were 
so ubiquitous as he ; none who knew so thoroughly what 


268 


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to do and how to do it, and none, certainly, who did 
everything with such a superabundance of energy. 

Once or twice Tommy stopped in the middle of these 
occupations to see how Bax was getting on ; for to his 
rather partial eyes it seemed that his friend was doing 
the whole work, and that everybody else was merely 
looking on. 

On one of these occasions he saw Bax sustaining the 
weight of an old man and a young woman. 

The girl was the old man’s daughter ; she had clung 
to him in the boat, and refused to let him go, having lost 
self-command through terror. Ignorant of this, and ob- 
serving that the old man could not help himself, Bax 
grasped him under the arms the first time he came within 
reach. The boat was immediately swept away by the 
passing wave, leaving the old man and the girl, who still 
clung with a death-like grasp to him, suspended in the 
air. Bax’s great strength enabled him to support this 
double weight, but he could not draw them up. A com- 
rade stooped to assist him, but the strain on the sling was 
so great that it gave way, and Bax, with his burden, fell 
into the sea like lead. 

Tommy saw this happen. There were plenty of loose 
ropes about. He seized the end of one, and leaped over- 
board instantly. He sank for a second or two, and on 
coming to the surface looked hastily- round. A hand was 
raised above the water near him. He knew it to be that 
of his friend, and struck out for it ; but it disappeared. 
Again it rose, and there was a convulsive grasping of the 
fingers. Tommy made one stroke, and placed the rope 
in it. The fingers closed like a vice. Next moment the 
ship rose and lifted Bax completely out of the water, with 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


269 


the old man and the girl still clinging to him. Before 
the ship sank again the boat sheered np, and they were 
all pulled into it. 

To leap on board the “ Trident” again, and resume his 
position, with a new and stronger sling, was comparative- 
ly easy work for Bax. Tommy clambered up, too, close 
behind him. Passing a strong rope round his friend’s 
waist, he said, quietly, — 

“ It won’t do to risk that again.” 

“ True, Tommy,” said Bax ; “ run below and fetch me 
a glass o’ brandy, lad. That last -plunge almost floored 
me.” 

The boy leaped over the side, and dived below. He 
reappeared, in a few seconds, with a tin can, with which 
he clambered over the side into the chains, and held it to 
his friend’s lips. Bax drained it at a draught, and Tom- 
my left him without another word. 

The whole of this scene was enacted with the utmost 
speed and energy. The spectators seemed to be paralyzed 
with amazement at the quiet self-possession of the man 
and the boy — both of whom appeared to divine each 
other’s thoughts, and to work into each other’s hands with 
the precision and certainty of a machine ; they did it all, 
too, as if they were entirely alone in the work. Until 
now they had been watched with breathless anxiety ; but 
when Tommy gave Bax the can of brandy, and then 
gravely went below with a baby, that had just been res- 
cued, in his arms, there arose a wild cheer of admiration, 
not unmingled with laughter, from those who had wit- 
nessed his conduct. 

But their attention was soon turned again to the boats, 
two of which still remained, with their freight, on the 
23 * 


270 


THE LIFEBOAT 


heaving water. Many incidents of a thrilling nature 
were enacted that night. One of the most interesting, 
perhaps, occurred soon after that which has just been 
related. 

In one of the boats was the young wife of an emigrant, 
who, having been compelled to separate from his wife and 
child when they left the burning ship in the first boat, had 
come alongside of the “ Trident ” in another boat. Being 
an active man, he had caught a rope and hauled himself 
on board some time before his wife was rescued. The 
poor young mother had tied her infant tightly to her 
bosom by means of a shawl, in order to make' sure that 
she should share its fate, whatever that might be. 

When the boat sheered up alongside, her husband was 
standing in the chains, anxious to render her assistance. 
The woman chanced to come near to Bax, but not suf- 
ficiently so to grasp him. She had witnessed his great 
power and success in saving others, and a feeling of strong 
confidence made her resolve to be caught hold of by him, 
if possible. She therefore drew back from the grasp of 
a stout fellow who held out his brawny arms to her. 

Bax noticed this occur twice, and understood the poor 
woman’s motive. Feeling proud of the confidence thus 
placed in him, he watched his opportunity. The boat 
surged up, but did not come near enough. It swept away 
from the ship, and the poor woman’s hands played ner- 
vously about the folds of the shawl, as she tried to adjust 
them more securely round her infant. Again the boat 
rose on a wave ; the woman stood ready, and Bax stooped. 
It did not come quite near enough ; but the disappointed 
woman, becoming desperate, suddenly put her foot on the 
gunwale, stood up at full length, and stretched out her 







THE LIFEBOAT. 


271 


arms. Bax just caught her by the hands, when the boat 
was swept from under her. 

Similar incidents had occurred so often that little anx- 
iety was felt ; but our hero’s strength was now thoroughly 
exhausted. He could not haul her up ; he could only 
hold on and shout for assistance. It was promptly ren- 
dered ; but before the poor woman could be rescued the 
infant slipped from the shawl, which the straightening of 
the mother’s arms and her suspended position had loos- 
ened. A cry burst from the agonized father, who stooped, 
and stood in the attitude of one ready to plunge into the 
sea. The mother felt the child slipping, and a piercing 
shriek escaped from her as she raised her knees and 
caught it between them. With muscular power, intensi- 
fied by a mother’s love, she held the infant in this strange 
position until both were drawn up and placed in safety on 
the deck ! 

This was the last of Bax’s achievements on that event- 
ful night. He was so thoroughly worn out by the long- 
continued and tremendous exertions he had been called 
on to make, that his strength, great though it was, broke 
down. He staggered down into the cabin, flung himself, 
wet as he was, on a couch, and almost instantly fell into 
a sleep so deep that he could not be roused for more than 
a moment or two at a time. Seeing this, Tommy bade 
the bystanders leave him alone for a few minutes until he 
should come back, when, according to his own expres- 
sion, “ He would screw him up all right and tjght ! ” 
Every one was by this time so thoroughly convinced that 
the boy was quite able to manage his friend, that they 
stood still, awaiting his return with much curiosity. 
Tommy soon returned with a tumbler of hot bran- 


272 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


dy and water, followed by the steward with a pile of 
blankets. 

“ Hold that a minute,” said the boy, handing the 
tumbler to a little old gentleman, who stood swaying to 
and fro with the motion of the vessel, and staring at Bax 
as if he had been a half-drowned sea-monster. 

“ Now, then,” cried Tommy, punching his friend 
severely in the ribs, seizing the hair of his head with 
botli hands, and shaking him until his neck seemed dis- 
located, to the surprise of all, and the horror of not a 
few. 

The result was, that Bax grumbled angrily, half awoke, 
and raised himself on one elbow. 

“ Drink, you tom-tit ! ” said the boy, catching the 
tumbler from the old gentleman, and applying it to his 
friend’s lips. 

Bax smiled, drank, and fell back on the pillow, with a 
deep sigh of satisfaction. Then Tommy spread blanket 
after blanket over him, and “tucked him in” so neatly, 
and with such a business-like air, that two or three 
mothers then present expressed their admiration and 
wonder in audible whispers. 

While Bax was being thus carefully tended by Tommy 
and a knot of sympathizers, the passengers ami crew vied 
with each other in making the rescued people as comfort- 
able as circumstances would permit. 

Meanwhile the “ Trident ” was again laid on her 
course, and, thus crowded with human beings, steered 
before favoring breezes for the shores of old England. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


We return, now, to the coast of Kent, and beg the 
reader to follow us into the Smugglers’ Cave at St. Mar- 
garet’s Bay. 

Here, in a dark corner, sat old Jeph. It was a stormy 
Sunday afternoon. The old man had gone to the bay to 
visit Coleman, and accompany him to his place of wor- 
ship. Jeph had wandered alone in the direction of the 
cave, after church. He found that some one had re- 
cently cleared its mouth of the rubbish that usually filled 
it, and that, by bending low, he could gain an entrance. 

Being of an adventurous disposition, the old man went 
in, and seating himself on a projecting rock in a dark 
corner, fell into a profound reverie. He was startled 
out of this by the sound of approaching footsteps. 

“ Come in, come in,” said a deep, hoarse voice, which 
Jeph at once- recognized as that of Long Orrick, his old 
enemy. “ Come in, -Nick ; you seem to- have got 
afeard o’ the dark of late. We’ll be out o’ sight here, 
and I’ll amuse ye, till this squall blows over, with an 
account o’ what I lieerd the -old man say.” 

u This squall, as ye call it, won’t blow over so soon as 
ye think,” replied Rodney Nick, in a sulky tone. u How- 
s’ever, we may as well wait here as anywhere else ; or 
die here, for all that I care ! ” 

“ Hallo, messmate ! wot’s ado, that ye should go into 
the blues when we’re on the pint o’ makin’ our fortins ? * 
said Orrick. 


( 273 ) 


274 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“Ado!” cried Rodney, angrily; “is it rot bad 
enough to be called messmate by you , and not be able to 
deny it?” 

“ You’re civil, any how,” said Orrick, with an oath. 

“ I mean to be,” retorted Nick, fiercely. 

“ Come, come, it’s no use quarrelling,” said Orrick, 
with an affectation of good humor. “ Never say die, 
Nick ; them’s the words o’ the immortial Nelson, w’en 
he gave the signal to blaze away at Trafalgar. But sit 
ye down here on this rock, and I’ll tell ye all about wot 
I see’d last night. Ye’d like to know, I dessay.” 

“ I’d like to have know’d sooner, if you had seen fit 
to tell me,” said Rodney Nick, in a gruff tone. 

“Well, then, keep your mind easy, and here goes. 
You know as how I chanced to hear old Jeph make an 
appointment with that young puppy, Guy Foster, to meet 
him at the darkest hour o’ night at the~tomb o’ Mary 
Bax. ^ Thinks I, it won’t be for nothin’ you’re goin’ to 
meet at sich an hour, in sich a place, my hearties ; so I’ll 
go an’ keep ye company, in a private way ! 

“ You may be sure I was up to time. Two hours did 
I wait in the ditch behind the tomb ; and I can tell ye, 
Nick, it’s desprit eerie work a sittin’ there, all alone, of 
a dark night, a countin’ of the beatin’s of yer ’art, an’ 
thinkin’ every shadow of the clouds is a ghost. How- 
s’ever, the old man came at last, and lies down flat on 
the grave, and begins to groan a bit. Arter that he 
takes to prayin’, an’, d’ye know, the way that old feller 
prays is a caution. The parsons couldn’t hold a candle 
to him. Not that I ever heerd ony of ’em, but I s*pose 
they couldn’t ! 

“Well, he was cut short in the middle by the arrival 
of the puppy — ” 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


275 


“ Wot puppy ? ” inquired Rodney. 

“ Guy, to be sure ; aint’ he the biggest puppy in Deal?” 
said Orrick. 

44 Mayhap ; but he ain’t the longest” retorted Rodney ; 
“ go on.” 

44 Humph ! — well, down sits Guy on the head o’ the 
tombstone, and pats old Jeph on the shoulder. 

44 4 Here I am, Jeph ; come, now, what is it you are 
so anxious to tell me ? ’ 

u The old man sat up : 4 I’m goin’ to die,’ says he. 

44 4 Nonsense,’ cried the young ’un, in a cheerie tone, 
by way of 4 don’t say that.’ 4 You’re as tough as an old 
bo’sn. Come, that wasn’t what you wanted to tell me, 
I’m sure.’ 

44 4 Ay, but it was,* says the old man, in sich an ear- 
nest voice that the young ’un was forced to become 
serious. 4 Listen, Guy,’ he goes on ; 4 I’m goin* to 
die, an* there’s no one in this world as I’ve got to look 
after me.’ 

44 Guy was goin’ to interrupt him at this point, but he 
laid his hand on his shoulder, and bade him be silent. 

44 4 I’ve got no relations, Guy, except two,* says he, 
4 an* I’ve no -childer. I never married. The only girl 
I ever loved lies under the cold, cold sod. You know 
that I’m a poor man, an’ the two relations I spoke of 
are rich — rich — ay, and they’re fond o’ money. May- 
hap that’s the reason they are rich ! Moreover, they 
know I’ve got the matter o’ forty pounds, or thereabouts, 
and I know that when I die they’ll fight for it, — small 
though it is, and rich though they be, — and my poor 
fortune will either go to them or to the lawyers. Now, 
Guy, this must not be ; so I want you to do me a kind? 


276 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


ness. Fm too old and frail to go about matters o’ busi 
ness, an’ I never was good at wot they call business in 
my best days ; so I want you to pay all my debts for me, 
and bring me the receipts.* 

44 ‘ I’ll do it, Jeph,* said Guy, 4 and much more than 
that, if you*ll only tell me how I can serve you ; but you 
mustn’t speak in that sorrowful way about dying.’ 

44 4 Sorrowful ! * cries the old man, quite surprised like ; 
‘ bless your heart, I’m not sorrowful. Don’t the Book 
say, 44 It’s better to be absent from the body, and present 
with the Lord ” ? ’ (Ah, you may grin as you please, Nick, 
but I give ye the ’xact words o’ the old hypocrite.) 
4 No, no, Guy,’ continued Jeph, ‘ I’ll be right glad to go ; 
many a sad, yet pleasant, hour have I spent here ; but 
I’m weary now, and would fain go, if the Lord will. 
Now, it’s my opinion that I’ve just two weeks to 
live — ’ 

44 4 Jeph ! * exclaimed Guy. 

44 4 Don’t interrupt me, lad. I’ve got two weeks to live ; 
so I want you to go and arrange about my funeral. 
Get a coffin made, — I used to be six feet when I was 
young, but I dessay I’m shorter now, — and get the 
undertaker to cast up beforehand wot it’ll all come to, and 
pay him, and bring me the receipts. Will ye do this, 
lad?’ 

44 4 1 will, if you wish it ; but — ’ 

44 4 If I didn’t wish it I wouldn’t ask it.’ 

44 4 Well, Jeph,’ said Guy, earnestly, 4 1 will do it.’ 

44 4 Thank’ee, lad, thank’ee. I know’d ye would ; so I 
brought the money with me. Here it is ; forty pounds, 
all told ; you’ll pay for the things, and bring me the 
receipts, and keep the rest , and use it in the service of Qod . 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


277 


I know I can trust you, lad ; so that’s enough. All I 
want is to prevent my small savin’s goin’ to the winds, 
or to those as don’t need ’em ; you understand how to 
give it to those as do.’ ” 

44 Is that all ? ” said Rodney Nick, impatiently. 

“ No, that’s not all,” replied his companion ; 44 though, 
if it was all* it’s a rather coorious fact, for which ye 
might thank me for takin’ the trouble to tell you. But 
you’re thankless by nature. It seems to me that nuther 
you nor me’s likely to trouble Guy Foster to look arter 
our spare cash in that way ! But that ain’t the end o’ 
my story, yet.” 

44 What ! you didn’t rob ’em ? eh ! you didn’t pitch 
into the 4 puppy,’ and ease him o’ the shiners ? ” 

Rodney Nick said this with a sneer, for he was well 
aware that his boastful companion would not have 
risked a single-handed encounter with Guy on any con- 
sideration. 

44 No, I didn’t ; it warn’t worth the trouble,” said Or- 
rick ; U but — you shall hear. Arter the old man had 
said his say, Guy asked him if that was all, for, if it was, 
he didn’t see no occasion to make no secret about it. 

44 4 No,’ said the old man, 4 that’s not all. I want you 
to take charge of a packet, and give it to Bax after I’m 
gone. No one must .break the seal but' Bax. Poor 
Bax ! I’d thought to have seen him once again before I 
went. I’ll leave the old house to him ; it ain’t worth 
much, but you can look arter it for him, or for Tommy 
Bogey, if Bax don’t want it. Many a happy evenin’ 
we’ve spent in it together. I wanted to give you the 
parcel here ; here, out on the dark Sandhills, where no 
one but God hears us. It’s wonderful what a place the 
24 


278 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


town is for eavesdroppin* ! so I made you come out here. 
You must promise me never to open the packet unless 
you find that Bax is dead ; then you may open it, and dc? 
as you think fit. You promise me this?* 

“ ‘ I do/ said Guy, as the old man pulled a small 
packet, wrapped up in brown paper, from his breast 
pocket, and put it into his hands. Then they rose, and 
went away together.” 

“ Well? ” said Rodney Nick. 

“Well!” echoed Long Orrick, “wot then?” 

“What next? What d’ye want to do?” inquired 
Rodney. 

“Do?” cried Orrick; ^1 mean to get hold o’ that 
packet if I can, by fair means or by foul ; that ’s wot I 
mean to do, and I mean that you shall help me !)” 

The reader may ^imagine what were the feelings of the 
poor old man as he sat in the dark corner of the cave 
listening to this circumstantial relation of his most secret 
affairs. When he heard Long Orrick’s last words, and 
felt how utterly powerless he was in his weakness to 
counteract him in his designs, he could not prevent the 
escape of a deep groan. 

The effect on the two men was -electrical. They 
sprang up, filled with superstitious horror, and fled pre- 
cipitately from the cave. 

Old Jeph staggered out after them, and made for the 
cottage of his friend Coleman. The latter met him near 
the threshold. 

“Why, Jeph, is this you? I’ve bin searchin’ for ye 
more than an hour, and come to the conclusion ye must 
ha’ gone home ; but — why, you’re ill, Jeph 1 ” 

“ Ay, I’m ill ; come, help me home.” 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


279 


4< Nay, not this night ; you shall stop with me ; the 
missus ’ll give you a cup o’ tea as will do yer old heart 
good.” 

“ No ; I mufet go home now,” said Jeph, in a tone so 
decided that his friend was staggered. 

“You can’t walk it, you know, in a stormy night like 
this.” 

“ I will- walk it,” said Jeph. 

“ Come then ; if you’re bent on it, you’d better go in 
your own lugger ; it’s here just now, agoin’ to put off in 
ten minutes or so. Nothin’ ever stops Bluenose, blow 
high, blow low. W’en he wants to go off to sea, he 
goes off, right or wrong. But you’ll take a glass o’ grog 
first.” 

Old Jeph would not do this ; so he was led down to 
the beach by Coleman, wdiere they found the boat being 
launched. 

“ Good by, old man,” said Coleman, helping him 
over the side. 

“ Good by, — farewell” said Jeph, earnestly. “ I came 
here to-day a-purpose to say farewell ; shake hands ; 
God bless you.” 

The coast-guardman was surprised by the warmth of 
his friend’s manner, as well as by his words ; but before 
he could ask him what he meant, the boat was run down 
the beach and out to sea. An hour later old Jeph was 
carefully put to bed in his own cottage, by his friend 
Captain Bluenose. 


CHAPTER XXH. 


Guy Foster, clad in a sou’-wester hat and oil-skin 
coat, stood at the end of the pier of Ramsgate Harbor, 
with his sweet wife, Lucy, clinging to his arm, and a 
sturdy boy of about four years old, holding on with 
one hand to the skirts of his coat, and with the other 
grasping the sleeve of his silver-haired grandsire, Mr. 
Burton. 

It was night, and a bitter gale was blowing from the 
north-east, accompanied by occasional showers of sleet. 
Crowds of seamen and others stood on the pier, eagerly 
watching the lifeboat, which was being got ready to put 
off to sea. 

“ It is too cold for you, darling,” said Guy, as he felt 
Lucy’s arm tremble. 

“ O, no ! I should like to stay,” said Lucy, anxiously. 

Just then a tremendous wave burst on the massive 
stone pier, and a shower of spray fell upon the crowd. 
Lucy and her companions received a copious share of it. 

“ You are wet through, dear, and so is Charlie,” said 
Guy, remonstratively. 

“ Well, \ will go home ; but you must come with us, 
papa. Guy wants to remain, I know.” 

The missionary gave his daughter his arm, and led 
her away, while Guy, pushing through the crowd, soon 
stood beside the lifeboat, the crew of which, already 
encased in their cork life-belts, were hastily taking their 
places. 


( 280 ) 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


281 


“There goes another rocket,” cried one of those on 
the lookout ; “ it’s from the North-s’n’-Head light.” 

“ Look alive, lads,” cried the cockswain of the boat, 
more to relieve his feelings than to hurry the men, who 
were already doing their best. 

The shrill note of a steam-whistle was heard at this 
moment, its piercing sound rising high above the shriek 
of the gale and the roaring of the sea. It was a sig- 
nal from the steam-tug appointed to attend on tire life- 
boat, and told that steam was up and all ready to put 
to sea. 

Put to sea on such a night ! with the waves bursting 
in thunder on the shore, the foam seething like milk 
beneath, the wind shrieking like ten thousand fiends 
above, and the great billows lifting up their heads, as 
they came rolling in from the darkness of Erebus that lay 
incumbent on the raging sea beyond ? 

Ay, a landsman might have said “madness” with 
reason. Even a seaman might have said that without 
much apparent impropriety. But the boatmen of Rams- 
gate held a different opinion ! The signal gun had been 
fired, the rocket had gone up, a wreck was known to be 
on the fatal Goodwin Sands, and they were as eager to 
face the storm as if encountering danger and facing death 
were pleasant pastime. 

As the oars were about to be -shipped, one of the crew 
stumbled, and struck his head so violently against the 
bollard, that he fell stunned into the.bottom of the boat. 
Guy saw the accident as he stood on the edge of the pier. 
A sudden impulse seized him. At one bound he passed 
from the pier to the boat, which was already some half- 
dozen feet away, and took the seat and oar of the injured 
24 * 


282 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


man. In the confusion and darkness, the others thought 
he was one of the supernumerary boatmen, and took no 
further notice of him. The boat w r as shoved back, the 
life-jacket was transferred to Guy, and the boatman was 
put ashore. 

A few strokes brought the boat alongside the steam- 
tug. 

“Heave the warp! make fast! — All right! steam 
ahead ! ” 

The whistle shrieked again, the warp tautened, and 
tug and lifeboat made for the mouth of the harbor. As 
they passed out an inspiring cheer was given by the 
crowd, and a rocket streamed up from the pier-head to 
signal the light-ship that assistance was on the way. 

The lifeboat which thus gallantly put off to the rescue 
in a storm so wild that no ordinary boat could have faced 
it for a moment without being swamped, was a celebrated 
one,'which had recently been invented and placed at this 
station, — where it still- lies, and may be recognized by 
its white sides and peculiar build. 

Its history is interesting. In the year 1851, the Duke 
of Northumberland, then ^president of the Lifeboat In- 
stitution, offered a prize of one hundred pounds for the 
best model of a lifeboat. The result was, that two hun- 
dred and eighty models and plans were sent to Somerset 
House for examination. The prize was awarded to Mr. 
James Beeching, boat-builder at Great Yarmouth, who 
was ordered to construct a boat, after the pattern of his 
model, thirty-six feet long, with twelve oars. 

The boat was, built, and was found to be the most 
perfect of its kind that had ever been launched. It was 
the first self-righting boat ever constructed. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


283 


The three great points to be attained in the construc- 
tion of a lifeboat are •*- buoyancy, the power of righting 
itself if upset, and the power of emptying itself if filled 
with water. } Up to this date the lifeboats of the king- 
dom were possessed of only the first quality. They 
could not be sunk ; that was all. Of course that was a 
great deal, but it was far from sufficient. Mr. Beech- 
ing’s boat united all three qualities. 

Its self-righting principle was effected by means of 
two raised air-cases, one at the stem, the other at the 
stern, and a heavy metal keel. When overturned, the 
boat attempted, as it were, to rest on its two elevated 
cases ; but these, being buoyant, resisted this effort, and 
turned the boat over on its side, the action being further 
assisted by the heavy keel, which had a tendency to drag 
the bottom downwards. Thus the upper part of the 
boat was raised by the- one action, and the bottom part 
depressed by the other, the result being that the boat 
righted itself immediately. In fact, its remaining in an 
inverted condition was an impossibility. 

The self-emptying principle was accomplished by the 
introduction of six self-acting valves into the bottom of 
the boat, through which the water, when shipped, ran 
back into the sea ! When we first heard of this we were 
puzzled, reader, as doubtless you are ; for it occurred 
to us that any hole made in a boat’s bottom would 
inevitably let water in, instead of out ! The difficulty 
was cleared up when we saw the model. Beeching’s 
boat had a double floor, the upper one raised to a little 
above the level of the sea. The -escapes were short 
metal pipes, the upper openings of which were fitted into 
holes in the upper floor. The lower ends passed through 


284 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


the bottom of the boat. The valves at the top opened 
downwards, but could not be opened upwards, so that the 
rushing of the sea into the pipes from below was checked, 
but the rushing in of the sea from above pressed the 
valves open, and allowed the water to run out, in accord- 
ance with the well-known law that water must find its 
level. Thus, the upper floor being above the level of the 
sea, all the water ran out. 

Boats on this principle, modified in some of the details 
by Mr. Peake, of Her Majesty’s dockyard at Woolwich, 
are now -adopted by the Lifeboat Institution. They 
right themselves in less than a minute, and free them- 
selves of water in about the same time. 

Besides the above advantages, Mr. Beeching’s boat 
was fitted with the usual air-cases round the sides, and 
with a thick stripe of cork outside the gunwale ; also 
with lines, hanging over the sides in festoons, so that any 
one in the water, using them as stirrups, might get into 
the boat with ease. She was further- provided with an 
anchor and cable ; with strong but light lines attached to 
grappling irons at the bow and stern, which, when 
thrown into the rigging or upon a wreck, might fasten 
themselves to the- ship, and retain the boat without any 
other aid ; also with a life-buoy, and a lantern for night 
work, besides numerous small articles. 

This boat Avas purchased by the Harbor Commis- 
sioners of Ramsgate, and ^anchored close to the pier, in 
connection with a powerful steam-tug (the fires of which 
were never allowed to die down), ready at any moment 
to fly to the rescue, on the signal of distress being given. 
This is the boat whose splendid deeds have so frequently 
of late drawn the attention and compelled the admiration 


T n E LI FEBOAT . 


285 


of the whole -country ; and it was this- boat that issued 
from Ramsgate Harbor on the wild night referred to at 
the beginning of this chapter. 

Both . tide and wind were dead against them as they 
issued from the .shelter of the pier, and met the storm ; 
but the steamer was very powerful ; it buffeted the bil- 
lows bravely, and gradually gained the neighborhood of 
the Sands, where the breakers and cross seas beat so furi- 
ously that their noise, mingled with the blast, created a 
din which can only be described as a prolonged and 
hideous roar. 

The night was extremely dark, and bitterly cold. 
Heavy seas -continually burst over the steamer’s bul- 
warks, and swept her- deck from stem to stern. The 
little lifeboat, far astern, was dragged by the strong 
hawser through a wild Jurmoil of water and spray. The 
men, nestling under the gunwales, clung to the thwarts, 
and maintained their position, although sea after sea 
broke over them, and well nigh washed them out. 

At length they reached the light-ship ; hailed her, and 
were told that the wreck was on a high part of the shin- 
gles, bearing north-west from the light. Away they 
went in that direction, but, being unable to find her, 
made their way to the .Prince’s light-ship, where they 
were told there was a large ship on the Girdler. Once 
more they steamed in the direction indicated, and soon 
discovered the wreck by the tar-barrels which she was 
burning. Just as they sighted her, an enormous sea 
broke over the steamer with such violence as to stop 
her way for a moment, and cause her strong frame to 
quiver. 

« Look out, lads ! ” cried the cockswain of the life- 


286 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


boat, as the black water loomed up between them and 
the tug. 

The men grasped the thwarts more firmly as a tre- 
mendous sea filled the boat to the gunwale. At this 
moment the checked steamer again leaped on her way ; 
the stout hawser parted like a piece of twine, and the 
lifeboat was left behind. Hoisting the corner of its small 
sail they made for the wreck. No time was lost mbalr 
ing, as would have been the case with the boats of former 
years ; a few seconds sufficed to empty her. 

The wind was now blowing a complete hurricane, with 
a terrific sea on, the horrors of which were increased by 
the darkness of the night, so that it was with the utmost 
difficulty they succeeded in getting alongside. The wreck 
was a coasting vessel with a crew of- eighteen men. 
There were no women or children ; so they were got 
into the boat without much loss of time, and safely con- 
veyed to the tug, which lay to for her little consort, about 
three quarters of a mile off. 

The lifeboat was again taken in tow, and they pro- 
ceeded together towards Ramsgate, when another gun 
and signal-rocket recalled them to continue their arduous 
duties. 

The sleet of a winter’s night beat furiously in the faces 
of these boatmen, as, already much exhausted, they once 
again faced the storm. But the streaming rocket and 
the signal gun seemed to infuse new life and. vigor into 
their hardy frames. Out to sea they went again, and, 
having approached as near as they dared to the breakers, 
worked their, way along the edge of the . Sands, keeping a 
bright lookout for the vessel in distress. Up and dowij 
they cruised, but nothing could be seen of her. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


287 


At last, on the eastern side of the Sands, they descried 
a large ship looming against the dark sky. 

“ There she is ! ” shouted the cockswain. 

The hawser was slipped, and the boat, detached from 
her bulky companion, pushed into the very vortex of the 
breakers. 

To say that no .other boat could have lived in such a 
sea, would convey but a faint notion of the powers of this 
boat. Any one of the deluging billows that again and 
again.^overwhelmed her would have swamped the best 
and largest boat that was ever launched ; and, although 
the old lifeboats might have floated, they certainly could 
not have made much progress in such a sea, owing to 
the difficulty of getting rid of the water. But the Rams- 
gate boat was empty a few seconds after being filled. 
The men had to take no thought as to this, except to see 
to it that they should not be washed out of her. 

On getting alongside they found the wreck to be a very 
large ship. Its black hull towered high above them, and 
the great yards swayed with fearful violence over their 
heads. A single glance showed that she was crowded 
with -men and women. 

The grapnels were thrown, and. Guy, starting up, 
seized the immense boat-hook, used by- lifeboats, and 
stood ready to. hook on to the rigging. He- succeeded in 
fixing the hook, but a violent lurch of the ship tore the 
handle out of his grasp, and cast him into the bottom of 
the boat. Just then a man was seen to run out on the 
main-yard, and slip down by a rope close to the sea. The 
boat sheered up towards him, and several arms were 
stretched out to save ; but the boat glided away, and the 
succeeding wave ingulfed him. Only for a second, how- 


288 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


ever. When it passed, the man was still seen clinging to 
the rope ; the boat once again sheered up so close that he 
was induced to let go his hold. He dropped into the 
sea close alongside, eaught one of the life-lines, and next 
instant was in the boat. 

“ All right ! Give me the boat-hook,” he cried, seiz- 
ing the handle as he spoke, and affixing it with the 
strength of a giant to the chains of the ship. 

The tone of this man’s voice thrilled to Guy’s heart. 
He sprang forward, and seized him by the arm. One 
glance was^sufficient. 

“ Bax ! ” 

“ Guy 1 ” 

There was no time for^more. The,, astonishment of 
both was^extreme, as may well be supposed, and that of 
Guy was much increased when he heard another familiar 
voice shout, — 

“ All right, Bax? ” 

“All right, Tommy; let them look alive with the 
women and children ; get up a light if you can.” 

There were others in the lifeboat who recognized these 
voices, but life and death were trembling in the balance 
at that moment ; they dared not unbend their attention 
from the one main object for an instant. 

Some one in the u Trident”^— for it was indeed that 
ill-fated ship seemed to have anticipated BaxV wish. 
Just as he spoke, a torch, made of tar and oakum, was 
lighted, and revealed the crowded decks, the raging sea 
that sought to swallow them up, aud the- lifeboat surging 
violently alongside. It was an ■ appalling scene : the 
shrieks of the women and children, mingled with the 
howling wind, the rush of the ‘Waves on the ship’s side, 




* 





THE LIFEBOAT. 


289 


and the shouting of men, created a . din so horrible that 
many a stout heart quailed. Fortunately the men who 
were the most active in the work of saving others were 
so taken up with what they were about, that there was 
no room for thought of personal danger. 

The first human being placed in the boat was a little 
child. Its mother, despairing of being saved herself, 
pressed through the crowd, held her little one over the 
side, and cried out, u Save my child ! ” Bax leaped on 
the air-chamber at the bow of the boat, and grasping 
the shoulder of a boatman with one hand, stretched out 
the other towards the child ; but the boat swooped for- 
ward, and brought him close under the chains, where a 
sailor held a woman suspended in his arm, ready to drop 
her into the boat when it should come close alongside. 
It did not, however, approach sufficiently near. The 
next wave carried them back, and enabled Bax to seize 
the child, and lay it in a place of safety. The mother 
was soon beside it, and in a short time the boat was 
quite filled. 

Bax then leaped into the mizzen chains, the lifeboat 
pushed off, and conveyed her cargo to the steam-tug. 
They took off -twenty-five -women and- children the first 
trip. The steamer then towed the boat into position to 
enable her again to make straight for the wreck. By 
this means much valuable time was saved, and more trips 
were made than could have been accomplished in the 
time by any lifeboat without the aid of a steamer. 

All the women and -children, and some of the male 
passengers, had been, conveyed to the tug, when aa acci- 
dent happened which well nigh destroyed the boat. This 
was the sudden falling of the mainmast of the “Tri- 
25 


290 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


dent.” With a rending, crash it fell on the boat, over- 
turned it, and held it down, so that its self-righting 
principle was neutralized. The crew, being secured 
against sinking by their life-jackets, succeeded in clam- 
bering into the ship, many of them more or less bruised 
and cut. The cockswain, however, did not appear ; he 
seemed to have been lost. 

“ He’s under the boat ! ” gasped Guy, who, having 
been entangled in the wreck of the mast, was the last to 
get on board. 

“ Axes, men ! ” shouted the captain of the “ Trident.” 

“ A hundred pounds to the man who saves him ! ” 
cried a voice from the quarter-deck. 

Who is this that is so liberal of his gold at a time when 
a hundred thousand pounds could not avail to save one 
hair of his own head? He clings to the mizzen-shrouds 
with a face so ashy pale that Guy Foster scarce recog- 
nizes his own uncle! Ah V Denham, you have seen a 
storm and a wreck at last, in circumstances you little 
dreamed of when, years ago, Guy predicted that you 
would “ change your mind ” in regard to these matters ; 
and it would seem that your experience has done you no 
little good ! 

But, although. Mr. Denham shouted his best, no one 
heard him. Not the less on that account, however, did 
the strong men wield their axes and hew asunder the 
tough ropes and spars. Bax, as usual, was prominent 
in action. He toiled as if for life — and so it was for 
life, though not his own. Small was the hope, yet it 
was enough to justify the toil. The curvature of the 
lifeboat was so great that it was possible a portion of 
air sufficient to maintain life might be confined within it. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


291 


And so it turned out. For twenty minutes they toiled ; 
the boat was finally cleared ; Bax struck the blow that 
set it free, and dragged the cockswain out as it turned 
over. He was found to be alive, though almost ex- 
hausted. 

Once more they pushed off with a full load of human 
beings. Among them were Mr. Denham, Bax, and 
Tommy Bogey. The greater part of the crew, and some 
of the male passengers, still remained in the wreck, await- 
ing their turn. 

When the boat had advanced .about a hundred yards, 
a cry of distress was heard ; but the noise of wind and 
waves was scugreat that theyjhought it might have been 
mere imagination. Nevertheless, so .much were they 
impressed, that the cockswain put about, and returned 
towards the wreck. Too soon they- discovered that it 
had been the death-cry of those who were left behind, for 
not a vestige of the “ Trident ” remained / .-The ill-fated ves- 
sel had been suddenlylbroken up and utterly .swept away ! 

In their anxiety to save any who might yet survive, 
and be clinging to portions of the wreck, the boat cruised 
about for some time, and her captain was tempted to 
advance too far over the dangerous shoals. She struck 
suddenly with great violence, and remained fast on the 
sands. The utmost efforts were made to haul off, but in 
vain. The boat was hurled again and. again on the 
ridges of sand ; -**• passed over ^several of them, and be- 
came hopelessly- entangled. 

Those well-known _ ripples that one sees on the shore, 
are, on the Goodwin Sands, magnified from an inch to 
nearly three feet. Over these the boat now began to 

surge. 


292 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“ Hoist the sail 1 up with it ! ” cried the cockswain, as 
they suddenly passed into deeper water. Some of the 
men began to hope that they had crossed the shoals, but 
they were mistaken. 

The order was obeyed, and the boat rushed forward 
wildly, with its lee gunwale buried deep in the sea ; 
another moment and it struck again with tremendous 
violence. Those on board would have been torn out of 
her had they not clung to the seats with the energy of 
despair. It now became clear to all who knew the 
locality, that there was no alternative for them but to 
beat right across the Sands. The violence of the gale 
had increased. The night was pitchy dark, and the fear- 
ful shocks with which they struck the gigantic ripples on 
the banks, sent despair to the hearts of all, except the 
crew of the boat. These, knowing her capabilities, re- 
tained a vestige of hope. 

Bax, being ignorant on this .point, had given up all 
hope. He clung to the bollard, close beside the cockswain. 

“ It’s all over with us at last,” he said, as the boat 
struck heavily, and was then lifted away on the crest of 
a roaring breaker. 

“ It may be so,” replied the- cockswain, calmly ; “ but 
if we escape being dashed on the wrecks that are scat- 
tered over the Sands, we may live it out yet.” 

And what of Mr. Denham, the head of the wealthy 
firm, who, years ago, had expressed the opinion that 
lifeboats were unnecessary, and that “ those who devoted 
themselves to a seafaring life ought to make up their 
minds to the chances and risks attending such a life? ” 
What thought he , as he lay there in the bottom of the 
boat — terrified almost to death ; shaken and bruised by 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


293 


the repeated and awful shocks ; chilled by the intense 
cold, and drenched to the skin, with just-enough life left 
to enable him to cling to a thwart ; — what thought he 
on that terrible night? 

Perchance he thought of his former life of pride, self- 
ishness, and indifference to the woes of others. Per- 
haps he reflected that his own neglect in other days had 
something to do with his being here now. Whatever he 
thought, he spoke not. His face was deadly pale. His 
lips were blue. He crouched, a hopeless, a helpless, and 
a pitiful object, in the bottom of the lifeboat. 

Presently they struck again. Crash ! Every timber 
groaned as the boat turned broadside to the sea, which 
made a clear breach over her. The cockswain and Bax 
alone stood up, both holding on to the mizzenmast. The 
rest clung on, as they best could, to the thwarts, some- 
times buried in water, often with only their heads above 
it. The tide was making, and, as the boat passed each 
shoal, the bow lifted first, and swung round, then the 
stern, and it was clear again ; but only to be hurled on 
the next ridge, when the sea once more burst over it, 
sweeping away everything that was loose. 

It became necessary to alter the trim of the boat, by 
moving some of the men from one part to another. The 
cockswain shouted the order, but only- Guy Foster and 
two others-were able to obey. All that the rest could do 
was to hold on with iron .grasp for- bare life. With 
some this had become the involuntary clutch of despair. 

Thus on they went, -crashing and jerking from bank 
to bank, amid the raging wind, and surf, and bitter cold. 
None save a lifeboat could have survived. To Bax it 
seemed miraculous. 

25 * 


294 


T II E LIFEBOAT. 


“What are you doin’ ?” said he to one of the men 
near him. 

“ I’m takin’ off my life-belt,” he replied ; “ it’ll be 
over all the quicker, and I don’t want to be beatin’ about 
over the sands, alive or dead, longer than I can help ; 
the sooner I go to the bottom the better.” 

Bax tried to cheer this man, but in vain. At first a 
few of the more sanguine spirits among them had en- 
deavored to cheer their comrades, but as time wore on 
their efforts ceased. All gave themselves up for lost, 
and no word was spoken by any one, save at long inter- 
vals, when a brief, sharp cry of agonizing prayer 
escaped from those who looked to God for consolation. 
Thus for two hours they beat over the sands, — a dis- 
tance of nearly two miles, — each moment expecting to 
be overturned, or dashed to pieces on some of the old 
wrecks. All this time the noble-hearted cockswain re- 
mained at his post, and Bax stood, hopeless, indeed, yet 
watchful, beside him. 

Suddenly the beating from ridge to ridge ceased. The 
boat swung into deep water, and rushed on her wild 
career over the foam ! Those who were not utterly 
exhausted noticed the fact, and began to show symptoms 
of reviving hope and activity. Others, thoroughly worn 
out, remained utterly indifferent to the change. 

Yes, the great danger was past ! Sail was quickly 
made. The storm was- still wild as- ever, but with suf- 
ficient water below her, winds and waves were powerless 
for -evil to the lifeboat. Rushing through the surf, she 
soon gained the harbor of Ramsgate, and all on board 
were landed in safety. 

Ay, reader, but the seeds of death had been sown 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


295 


that night. The boatmen returned to their homes, and 
the saved passengers and crew of the “ Trident ” were 
cared for by the authorities of the town ; but one sad 
result was, that - several of those who had so nobly 
risked their lives to save others, never recovered from 
the effects of the sixteen hours of exposure to that piti- 
less storm. 

Another and a glorious result was, that a hundred 
and twenty souls were snatched from a- watery grave. 


CHAPTER XXin. 


We pause at this point in our story, good reader, to 
treat you to a little of what mankind is prone to con- 
sider “ dry,” namely, a chapter of information and 
statistics. We dislike sailing under false colors; there- 
fore we warn you at the outset of the nature of what is 
to follow. 

And yet our- subject ought not to be considered dry, 
for it is indissolubly connected with salt water ; and il 
human hearts were suitably affected by the simple state- 
ment of facts, drops of salt water would frequently moisten 
these pages ! 

Please, do not skip. Multum in parvo shall be our 
motto. 

Lionel --Lukin, a coach-builder in. London,, was the 
inventor of the. lifeboat.' lie took out a patent for it on 
the 2d November, 1785, and wrote a pamphlet on life- 
boats, entitled “ The Invention, Principles, and Con- 
struction of Insubmergible Boats.” His boat was ren- 
dered buoyant by means of a projecting gunwale of 
cork, and hollow air-cases within it ; one of these being 
at the head, the other at the stern. It was ballasted by 
means of a false iron. keel. In these respects this boat 
possessed, in rudimentary form, the essentials of the life- 
boat of the present day. A coble was. converted into a 
lifeboat, on these principles, by Lukin, and launched at 
Bamborough, where, in the course of the first year, it 
( 296 ) 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


297 


was the means of saving many lives. ( This was the first 
lifeboat ever brought into action. 

Lukin, though a man of energy and perseverance, 
was doomed to disappointment. The Prince of Wales 
(George IV.) — to his credit be it said — was his warm 
aud liberal patron ; but even the Prince’s influence failed 
to awaken the sympathy of the public, or of the men in 
high places who alone could bring this great invention 
into general use. People in those days, appeared to 
-ihink that the annual drowning of thousands of their 
countrymen was an unavoidable necessity, -t- the price 
we had to pay, as it were, for our maritime prosperity. 
Lukin appealed in vain to the First Lord of the Admi 
ralty, and to many other influential men ; but a deaf ear 
was invariably turned to him. With the exception of 
the Bamborough. coble, not a single lifeboat was placed 
at any of the dangerous localities on the east coast of 
England for ^several years, Wrecked men, and women, 
and children were (as far as the Naval Boards were con- 
cerned) graciously permitted to swim ashore, if they 
could, or to go to the bottom, if they couldn’t. Ulti- 
mately, the inventor of the lifeboat went to his grave 
unrewarded and unacknowledged, v— at least by the na- 
tion, — though the lives saved through his - invention 
were, undoubtedly, a reward beyond all price. The high 
honor of having constructed and set in motion a species 
of boat which has saved hundreds and thousands of hu- 
man lives, and, perchance, prevented the breaking of 
many human hearts, is certainly due to Lionel Lukin. 

In 1789, the public were roused from their state of 
apathy in regard to shipwrecked seamen by the wreck 
of the “ Adventure,” of Newcastle, the crew of which 


298 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


perished in the presence of thousands, who could do 
nothing to save them* Under the excitement of this dis- 
aster the inhabitants of South Shields met to deplore and 
to consult. A committee was appointed, and premiums 
were offered for the best models of lifeboats. Men came 
forward, and two stood preeminent Mr. William 
Wouldhave, a painter, and Mr. Henry Greathead, a 
boat-builder of South Shields. The' former seems to 
have been theviirst who had a glimmerings idea of the 
self-righting' principle, but he never brought it to any- 
thing. Cork was the buoyant principle in his" boat. 
Greathead suggested a curved keel. The chairman of 
the committee modelled a boat in clay which combined 
several of the good qualities of each, and this was. given 
to Greathead as the type of the boat he was to build. 

From this time forward lifeboats gradually multiplied. 
Greathead became a noted -improver and builder of 
them. He was handsomely rewarded for his useful 
labors by government and others, and his- name became 
so intimately and deservedly- associated with the life- 
boat, that people erroneously gave him the -credit of 
being itsjnventor. 

The Duke of Northumberland took a deep interest in 
the subject of lifeboats, and expended money, liberally in 
constructing and supporting them. Before the close of 
1803, Greathead had- built -thirty-one boats, eighteen for 
England, five for -Scotland, and eight for foreign coun- 
tries. This was, so far, well ; but it was a. wretchedly 
inadequate provision for the necessities of the case. 
Interest had indeed been awakened in the public, but the 
public cannot act as a united body ; and the Trinity 
House seemed to fall back into the sleep from which it 
had been partially aroused. 


THE LI FEBOAT. 


299 


It was not till 1822 that the great (because successful) 
champion of the lifeboat stood forth, -v- in the person of 
Sir William Hillary, Bart. 

Sir William, besides being a philanthropist, was a 
hero ! He not only devised liberal things, and carried 
them into execution, but he personally shared in the 
danger of rescuing life from the raging sea. Our space 
forbids a memoir, but this much may be said briefly. 
He dwelt on the coast of the Isle of Man, and estab- 
lished a Sailors’ Home at Douglas. He constantly wit- 
nessed the horrors of shipwreck, and seemed to make it 
his favorite .occupation to act as one of the crew of boats 
that put off-to wrecks. He was of course frequently in 
imminent ^danger ; once had his ribs broken, and was 
nearly drowned oftentimes. (^During his career he per- 
sonally assisted in saving three hundred lives! He was 
the means of stirring up public men, and the nation gen- 
erally, to a higher sense of their duty to those who risk 
their lives upon the sea ; and eventually — in conjunction 
with two members of Parliament, Mr. Thomas Wilson 
and Mr. George Hibbert — was the- founder of “ The 
Royal National Institution for the Preservation of Life 
from Shipwreck” 

This noble Institution -v now named The Royal Na- 
tional Lifeboat Institution was founded on the 4th 
of March, 1824. From that date to the present time it 
has unremittingly carried out the great ends for which it 
was instituted. 

Let us glance at these in detail, a*- given in their pub- 
lication, TAe Lifeboat Journal. 

The objects of the Institution are effected, — 

“ lgt. By the stationing of lifeboats, fullv equipped. 


500 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


with all necessary gear and means of security to those 
whojnan them^ and with transporting carriages on which 
they can be drawn by land to the neighborhood of dis- 
tant wrecks, and by the erection of suitable houses in 
which the same are kept. 

“ 2d. By the appointment of paid cockswains, who 
have charge of, and are held responsible for, the good 
order and efficiency of the boats, and by a quarterly 
exercise of the crew of each boat. 

“ 3d. By a liberal remuneration of all those who risk 
their lives in going to the aid of wrecked persons, 
whether in lifeboats or otherwise ; and by the rewarding 
with the gold or silver medal of the Institution such 
persons as encounter great .personal risk in the saving 
of life. 

“ 4th. By the superintendence of an honorary com- 
mittee of residents in each locality, who, on their part, 
undertake to collect locally what amount they are able 
of donations towards the first cost, and of annual con- 
tributions towards the permanent expenses of their sev- 
eral establishments.” 

In order to see how this work is, and has been, carried 
out, let us look at the results, as stated in the last annual 
report— =* that for 1864. 

The lifeboats of the Institution now number one hun- 
dred and thirty-two, and some of them were the means 
of saving no fewer than-four hundred and seventeen lives 
during the past year ; nearly the .whole of them in dan- 
gerous circumstauces, amidst high surfs, when no other 
description of boats could have been launched with 
safety. They also took into port, or materially assisted, 
seventeen vessels, which might otherwise have been lost. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


301 


The number of persons afloat in the boats on occasions 
of their being launched was six thousand. In other 
words, our army of coast-heroes amounts, apparently, to 
that number. But in reality it is much larger, for there 
are hundreds of willing. volunteers, all round the coast, 
ready to man lifeboats, if there were lifeboats to man. 
Although nearly every, man of this six thousand risked 
his -life again and again during the year, not a single 
life was-dost. 

Nearly all these boats have been supplied with trans- 
porting carriages and boat-houses by the Institution. 
The cost in detail is as follows : — 


Lifeboat and her equipments, £300 

Transporting carriage, «... 100 

Boat house (arerage cost), ISO 


Total £550 


The sums granted last year for the saving of seven 
hundred and fourteen lives by lifeboats, shore-boats, etc., 
amounted to nearly £1300 (about £1, 16s. 6d. each life !) 
Fifteen silver medals and twenty-six votes of thanks, in- 
scribed on vellum and parchment, were also awarded for 
acts of extraordinary- gallantry. 

The income of the Institution in 1863 was £21,100. 
Fifteen new lifeboats were sent to various parts of the 
coast in that year. 

It is interesting to observe in the report the persons 
by whom donations are sometimes given to the Institu- 
tion. We read of £.*£100 from a sailor’s daughter;” 
and ‘*£100 as a thank-offering for preservation at sea, 
during the storm of 31st October last.” Another thank- 
offering of “ £20 for preservation from imminent danger 
26 


302 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


at sea,” appears in the list. “£100 from ‘a friend,* 
in gratitude to God for the preservation of his wife for 
another year ; ” and “ £20 from a seaman’s daughter, 
the produce of her needle-work.” Among smaller sums 
we find £1, 6s. 9d. collected in a Sunday school; £3, 
18s. 8d. collected in a parish church, as a New Year’s 
offering. Last, and least in one sense, though by no 
means least in another, Is. 6d. in stamps, from a sailor’s 
orphan ohild. 

The prayer naturally springs to one’s lips, God bless 
that dear orphan child ! but it has been already blessed 
with two of God’s choicest gifts — a- sympathetic heart 
and an open hand. 

Small sums like this are not in any sense to be de- 
spised. If the population of London alone — taking it 
at two millions — were individually to contribute Is. 6d., 
the sum would amount to £150,000 ! Why, if every one 
whose eye falls on this page — to descend to smaller 
numbers — were to give a shilling, it is not improbable 
that a sum would be raised sufficient to establish two 
lifeboats ! * 

But there- are those who, besides being, blessed with 
generous hearts, are fortunate in possessing heavy purses. 
We find in the same report donations of from. two hun- 
dred to two thousand pounds, and legacies ranging from 
ten to a thousand pounds. The largest-legacy that seems 
ever to have been bequeathed to the Institution. was that 
of- ten -thousand- pounds, left in l856, by Captain Hamil- 


* In case any reader should sympathize with us, and desire to act on the 
above hint, we subjoin the following address, to which money may b« 
sent : Richard Lewes, Esq., Secretary of the Royal National Lifeboat In- 
stitution, 14 John Street, Adelphi, London, W. 


THE LIFEBOAT 


303 


ton Fitzgerald, R. N., one of the vice-presidents of the 
Society. 

The mere mention of -such sums may induce some io 
imagine that the coffers of the Institution *are in a very 
flourishing state. This would indeed be the case if the 
Society had reached its culminating points if everything 
were done that can be done for the preservation of life 
from shipwreck ; but this is by no means the case. It 
must be borne in mind that the Institution is national. 
The entire coasts of the United Kingdom are its field of 
operations, and the drain upon its resources is apparently 
quite equal to its income. Its chief means of support 
are voluntary contributions. 

* Since the Society was instituted, in.1824, to the present 
time, it has been the means of saving thirteen thousand 
five hundred and seventy lives ! many, if not most, of 
these Being lives of the utmost consequence to the com- 
merce and defence of the country. During the same 
period it has granted eighty-two gold medals, seven hun- 
dred and thirty-six silver medals, and seventeen thousand 
eight hundred and thirty pounds in cash ; besides ex- 
pending eighty-two thousand five hundred and fifty pounds 
on boats, carriages, and boat-houses. 

Considering, then, the -magnitude and unavoidable 
costliness of the -operations of this Institution, it is evi- 
dent that a large annual income is indispensable, if it is 
to continue ite noble career- efficiently. 

Closely allied to this is another society which merits 
brief notice here. It is the “ Shipwrecked Fishermen^ 
and Mariners* Royal Benevolent Society.” Originally 
this Society, which was instituted in. 1839, maintained 
lifeboats on various parts of the coast. It eventually, 


304 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


however, made these over to the Lifeboat Institution, 
and confined itself to its own special and truly philan- 
thropic work, which is, — 

To board, lodge, and convey to their homes, all desti- 
tute, shipwrecked persons, to whatever country they may 
belong, through the instrumentality of its agents ; to 
afford temporary, assistance to the widows, parents, and 
children of all mariners and fishermen who may have 
beeu drowned, and who were members of the Society ; 
and to give a gratuity to mariners and fishermen, who 
are members, for the loss or damage of their clothes or 
boats. Membership is obtained by an annual subscrip- 
tion of half a crown. 

Assuredly every mariner and fisherman in the king- 
dom ought to be a member of this Society, for it is pre- 
eminently useful, and no one can tell when he may 
require its assistance. 

The Lifeboat Institution and the Shipwrecked Fisher- 
men’s and Mariners’ Society are distinct bodies, but they 
do tlieir benevolent work in harmonious concert. The 
one saves life, or tries to. save it; the other cherishes 
the life so saved, or comforts and affords timely aid to 
broken-hearted mourners for the dead. 

Both Institutions are national blessings, aud as such 
have the strongest possible elaim on the sympathies of 
the nation. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


Resuming our story, we remind the reader that we 
left off just as the Ramsgate lifeboat had gained a glori- 
ous victory over a great storm. 

Availing ourself of an author’s privilege, we now 
change the .scene to the .parlor of Mrs. Foster’s temporary 
lodgings at Ramsgate, whither the worthy lady had gone 
for change of air, in company with her son Guy, her 
daughter-in-law Lucy, her little grandson Charlie, and 
her adopted daughter Amy Russel. 

Bax is standing there alone. He looks like his former 
self in regard to costume, for the only man, approachiug 
his own size, who could lend him a suit of dry clothing, 
happened to be a boatman ; so he is clad in the familiar 
rough coat with huge buttons, the wide pantaloons, and the 
sou’-wester of former days. His countenance is changed, 
however ; it is pale and troubled. 

On the way up from the harbor_Guy had told him that 
he was married, and was surprised when Bax, instead 
of expressing a desire to be introduced to his wife, made 
some wild proposal about going and looking after the 
people who had been saved! He was pleased, how- 
ever, when Bax suddenly congratulated him with great 
warmth, and thereafter said, with much firmness, that 
he would go up to the house and see her. On this 
occasion, also, Bax had told his friend that all the prod- 
uce of his labor since he went away now lay buried 
in the Goodwin Sands. 

26 * 


( 306 ) 


306 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Bax was ruminating on these things when the door 
opened, and Guy entered, leading Lucy by the hand. 

“ Miss Burton ! ” exclaimed Bax, springing forward. 

u My wife” said Guy, with a puzzled look. 

“ Bax ! ” exclaimed Lucy, grasping his hand, warmly, 
and kissing it ; “ surely you knew that I was married to 
Guy ? ” 

Bax did not reply. His chest heaved, his lips were 
tightly compressed, and his nostrils dilated, as he gazed 
alternately at Guy and Lucy. At last he spoke in deep, 
almost inaudible, tones, — 

“Miss Russel ; — is she still — ” 

“ My sister is still with us. I have told her you are 
come. She will be here directly,” said Guy. 

As he spoke, the door opened, and Mrs. Foster en- 
tered, with Amy leaning on her arm. The latter was 
very pale, and trembled slightly. On seeing Bax, the 
blood rushed to her temples, and then fled back to her 
heart. She sank on a chair. The sailor was at her side 
in a moment ; he .caught her as she was in the act of fall- 
ing, and, going down on one knee, supported her head on 
his shoulder. 

“Bring water she has fainted,” he- cried. “Dear 
Miss Russel ! — dearest Amy ! — O, my beloved girl, look 
up!” 

Stunned and terrified though poor Mrs. Foster was, as 
she rushed about the room'in search of water and scent- 
bottles, she was taken aback somewhat by the warmth 
of these expressions, which Bax, in the strength of his 
feelings and the excitement of the moment, uttered quite 
unconsciously. Guy was utterly confounded, for the truth 
now for the first time flashed upon him ; and when he 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


307 


beheld his friend tenderly press his lips on the fair fore- 
head of the still insensible Amy, it became _clear beyond 
a doubt. Lucy was also amazed ; for although she was 
aware of Amy’s love for Bax, she had never dreamed 
that it was returned. 

Suddenly Guy’s pent-up surprise and excitement broke 
forth. Seizing Mrs. Foster by the shoulders, he stared 
into her face, and said, “ Mother, I have been an ass ! 
an absolute donkey! — and a Hind one too. O! — ha! 
come. along; I’ll explain myself. Lucy, I shall require 
your assistance.” 

Without more adieu Guy led his mother and Lucy for- 
cibly out of the room, and Bax and Amy were left alone. 

Again we change the scene. The Sandhills, lying to 
the north of Deal, are before us, and the shadows of night 
are beginning to deepen over the bleak expanse of downs. 
A fortnight has passed away. 

During that period Bax experienced the great de- 
light of feeling assured that Amy loved him, and the great 
misery of knowing that he had not a sixpence in the world. 
Of course Guy sought to cheer him by saying that there 
would be no difficulty in getting him the command of a 
ship ; but Bax was not cheered by the suggestion ; he 
felt depressed, and proposed to Guy that they should take 
a ramble together over the Sandhills. 

Leaving the cottage, to which the family had returned 
the day before, the two friends walked in the direction 
of Sandown Castle. 

“What say you to visit old Jeph?” said Guy; “I 
have never felt easy about him since he made me order 
his coffin and pay his debts.” 


THE LIFEB OAT. 


*08 

“ With all my heart,” said Bax. “ I spent a couple 
of hours with him this forenoon, and he appeared to me 
better than usual. Seeing Tommy and me again has 
cheered him greatly, poor old man.” 

“ Stay, I will run back for the packet he left with me 
to give to you. He may, perhaps, wish to give it you 
with his own hand.” 

Guy ran back to the cottage, and quickly returned with 
the packet. 

Old Jeph’s door was open when they approached his 
humble abode. Guy knocked gently, but, receiving no 
answer, entered the house. To their surprise and alarm 
they found the old man’s bed empty. Everything else in 
the room was in its usual place. The little table stood 
at the bedside, with the large, old Bible on it, and the 
bundle of receipts that Guy had placed there on the day 
he paid the old man’s debts. In a corner lay the black 
coffin, with the winding-sheet carefully folded on the lid. 
There was no sign of violence having been done, and the 
friends were forced to the conclusion that Jeph had quit- 
ted the place of his own accord. As he had been con- 
fined to bed ever since his illness, — about two weeks, — 
this sudden disappearance was naturally alarming. 

“ There seems to have been no foul play,” said Bax, ex- 
amining hastily the several closets in the room. “ Wh^re 
can he have gone ? ” 

> “ The tomb ! ” said Guy, as Jeph’s old habit recurred 
to his memory. 

“ Right ! ” exclaimed Bax, eagerly. “ Come, let’s go 
quickly.” 

'They hastened out, and, breaking into a smart run, 
soon reached the Sandhills. Neither of them spoke, for 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


309 


each felt deep anxiety about the old man, whose weak 
condition rendered it extremely improbable that he could 
long survive the shock that his system must have sus- 
tained by such a walk at such an hour. 

Passing the Checkers of the Hope, they soon reached 
Mary Bax’s tomb. The solitary stone threw a long, dark 
shadow over the waste as the moon rose slowly behind 
it. This shadow concealed the grave until they were 
close beside it. 

“ Ah ! he is-here,” said Bax, kneeling down. 

Guy knelt beside him, and assisted to raise their old 
friend, who lay extended on the grave. Bax moved him 
so as to get him from beneath the shadow of the stone, 
and called him gently by name ; but he did not answer. 
When the moonlight, next moment, fell on his counte- 
nance, the reason of his silence was sufficiently obvious. 

Old JeplKWas dead ! 

With tender care they lifted the body in their arms, and 
bore it to the old cottage, where they laid it on the bed, 
and, sitting down beside it, conversed for some time in 
low, sad tones. 

“ Bax,” said Guy, pulling the sealed packet from his 
breast pocket, ¥ had you not better open this ? It may, 
perhaps, contain some instructions having reference to his 
last resting-place.” 

“ True,” replied Bax, breaking the seals. “ Dear old 
Jeph, it is sad ta lose you in this sudden wav, without a 
parting word or blessing. What have we here?” he 
continued, unrolling several pieces of brown paper. “ It 
feels like a key.” 

As he spoke, a small letter dropped from the folds of 
the brown paper, with an old-fashioned key tied to it by 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


310 

a piece of twine. Opening the letter, he read as fol- 
lows : — 

“ ‘ Dear Bax : When you get this I shall be where 
the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at 
rest. There is a hide in the north-west corner of my 
room, in the old house, between the beam and the wall. 
The key that is enclosed herewith will open it. I used 
to hide baccy there in my smugglin’ days ; but since I 
left off that I’ve never used it. There you will find a 
bag of gold. How much is in it I know not. It was 
placed there by an old mate of mine more than forty 
years ago. He was a great man for the guinea trade 
that was carried on with France in the time of Boney’s 
wars. I never rightly myself understood that business. 
I’m told that Boney tried to get all the gold out o’ this 
country by payin’ three shillings more than each guinea 
was worth for it ; but that seems unreasonable to me. 
Hows’ever, although I never could rightly understand it, 
there is no doubt that some of our lads were consarned 
in smugglin’ guineas across the channel, and two or three 
of ’em made a good thing of it. My mate was one o’ 
the lucky ones. One night he came home with a bag o’ 
gold, and tumbled it out on the table before me. I had 
my suspicions that he had not come honestly by it, so 
would have nothin’ to do with it. When I told him so, 
he put it back into the bag, tied it up, and replaced it in 
the hide, and went away in a rage. He never came back. 
There was a storm from the east’ard that night. Two 
or three boats were capsized, and my mate and one 01 
two more lads were drowned. The guineas have lain in 
the hide ever since. I’ve often thought o’ usin’ them ; but 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


311 


somehow or other never could make up my mind. You 
may call this foolish ; mayhap it was ; any how, I now 
leave the gold to you ; — ‘■ to Tommy, if you never come 
back, or to Guy, if he don’t turn up. Bluenose don't 
want it. It would only bother him if I put it in his way. 

“ ‘ This is all I’ve got to say. The old house ain’t 
worth much, but, such as it is, it’s yours ; or it may go 
the same way as the guineas. 

“ ‘ Now, Bax, may God bless you, and make you one 
of his own children, through Jesus Christ. My heart 
warms to you for your own sake, and for the sake of her 
whose name you bear. Farewell, — Your old friend 
and mate, Jeph.* ” 

Bax stooped over the bed and pressed his lips to the 
dead man’s forehead when he had finished reading this 
letter. For some time the two friends sat talking of old 
Jeph’s sayings and doings in former days, forgetful of the 
treasure of which the epistle spoke. At last Bax rose 
and drew a table to the corner mentioned in the letter. 
Getting upon this, he found an old board nailed against 
the wall. 

“ Hand me that axe, Guy ; it must be behind this.” 

The board was soon wrenched off, and a small door 
revealed in the wall. The key opened it at once, and in- 
side a bag was found. Untying this, Bax emptied the 
glittering contents on the table. It was a large heap, 
amounting to five hundred guineas ! 

“ I congratulate you, Bax,” said Guy ; “ this removes 
a great difficulty out of your way. Five hundred guineas 
will give you a fair start.” 

“ Do you suppose that I will appropriate this to my- 


S12 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


self?” said Bax. “You and Tommy are mentioned in 
the letter as well as I.” 

“You may do as you please in regard to Tommy,” 
said Guy ; “ but as for me, I have a good salary, and 
won’t touch a guinea of it.” 

“Well, well,” said Bax, with a sad smile, “this is 
neither the time nor place to talk of such matters. It is 
time to give notice of the old man’s death.” 

Saying this, he returned the gold to its former place, 
locked the hide, and replaced the board. As he was 
doing this, a peculiar cut in the beam over his head 
caught his eye. 

“I do- believe here is another hide,” said he ; “hand 
the axe again.” 

A piece of wood was soon forced out of the side of the 
beam next the wall, and it was discovered that the beam 
itself was. hollow. Nothing was found in it, however, 
except a crumpled piece of paper. 

“ See here, there is writing on this,” said Guy, picking 
up the paper which Bax flung down. “ It is a crabbed 
hand, but I think I can make it out : ‘ Dear Bogue, you 
will find the tubs down Fegwell Bay, with the sinkers on 
’em ; the rest of the swag in Fiddler’s Cave.’ ” 

“ Humph ! an old smuggler’s letter,” said Bax. “ May- 
hap the tubs and swag are there yet.” * 

We may remark here, that, long after the events now 
related, Bax and Guy remembered this note, and visited 
the spots mentioned out of curiosity ; but neither “ tubs ” 
nor “ swag ” were found. 

Quitting the room with heavy hearts, the two friends 
locked the door, and went in search of those who are wont 
to perform the last offices to the dead. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


There came a day, at last, when the rats in Red wharf 
Lane obtained an eutire holiday, doubtless to ieir own 
amazement, and revelled in almost unmolested felicity 
from morning till night. The office of Denham, Crumps, 
& Co. was shut ; the reason being that the head of the 
firm was dead. 

Mr. Denham had died without a will. 

At the time when Guy offended his uncle by express- 
ing his opinion too freely, Denham vowed in his heart 
that his nephew should not inherit his business or fortune. 
He resolved to leave both to another nephew, the son of 
a younger brother, at that time in the East India Com- 
pany’s service. But as death was a contingency incon- 
ceivably remote from himself, — at least in his own opin- 
ion, — he jlid not think it necessary to make his will at 
that time. He died, therefore, as we have said, without 
making it. 

He died, also, without carrying out any of his good 
intentions. 

It is a common mistake to suppose that a man has only 
to repent of his evil deeds, and that thenceforth all will 
be plain sailing. The habits of a lifetime are not to be 
overcome without a hard struggle, even in the most sin- 
cere of Christians. 

Denham, after being saved by the Ramsgate lifeboat, 
had made up his mind to turn his wealth to good account, 
and, in his philanthropic plans, had resolved to look with 
27 ( 313 ) 


S14 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


special favor on the Lifeboat Institution. But he delayed 
to carry out these plans. He did not strike when the 
iron was hot, and so the iron began slowly to cool. He 
had also determined to reinstate Bax in his employment, 
and to take Guy into partnership ; but he delayed in 
these matters also. The love of gold and the memory 
of fancied insults began to tell on him, as of old. He 
even went so far as to meditate carrying out his former 
intention of making his will in favor of the nephew in 
India ! 

Still, Denham did not fall back to his old position. 
A struggle, which began when he resided with his sister 
at Deal, went on in his breast continually. While this 
struggle was yet undecided, a fever seized him. His 
constitution, weakened by the hardships which he had so 
recently undergone, gave way, and he died. 

The result was, that the business fell to the next of 
kin, — Mrs. Foster, whose son, in the natural course 
of things, stepped into his uncle’s shoes. The result of 
this was, that poor Denham’s good resolves, ayd a great 
many more good resolves than Denham could ever have 
conceived of, were carried out in a way that would have 
amazed him had he been there to see it, and that almost 
took the breath away from old Mr. Crumps. 

A glance at Guy in his office, not long after his uncle’s 
death, will show the reader how things were managed by 
the new head of the firm. 

Guy was seated in Denham’s chair, at^Denham’s desk, 
reading and writing what, in former days, would have 
been Denham’s letters. Presently Mr. Crumps entered. 

“ I was just going to ask you to consult with me,” 
said Guy ; “ pray sit down ; sit down, Mr. Crumps.” 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


315 


The old man in his modesty meant to stand, as, in 
former days, he would have stood before Denham. 

44 Here is a letter from a friend,” continued Guy, 
44 asking for a contribution towards the establishment of 
a lifeboat on the coast of Wales. He reminds me that I 
myself was once indebted to the services of a lifeboat when 
my life was in great danger, and hopes that I will re- 
spond liberally to his appeal. His name is Clelland. He 
was on board the old 4 Trident * when she was wrecked 
in St. Margaret’s Bay. I made his acquaintance then. 
Now, what do you think we ought to give ? I should like 
to have your advice on this point, and on several other mat- 
ters of a similar nature, Mr. Crumps, because there has 
been no regular 4 Charity ’ account in our ledger, I find, 
and I would like to open one. Don’t you think it would 
be as well to open one ? ” 

Mr. Crumps thought it^would, and -c- being a man of 
naturally charitable and liberal impulses, who had been 
constantly snubbed by Mr. Denham for jnany years past 
— he felt overjoyed at the prospect of a new era open- 
ing up before him. 

44 Well, what shall we send to Mr. Clelland? ” pursued 
Guy. 

Mr. Crumps, unable all at. once to get over old habits 
and associations, suggested fifty pounds, timidly. 

44 The district is a poor one,” said Guy. 44 Perhaps, 
that being the case — ” 

44 Say a hundred,” put in Crumps, eagerly ; and then 
in a partially, apologetic tone, 44 the business can afford 
it, my dear sir. Heaven knows it is but little that — ” 

The old man’s voice faltered and stopped. He was 
going to have made a remark that would have cast * 


816 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


Blur on the character of his late partner ; so he checked 
himself, and sighed. 

“ Well, then, it shall be a hundred/’ said Guy, jotting 
down the sum on a slip of paper. u I would not advise 
more to be given to that particular district just now, be- 
cause it might tend to check the efforts of the people on 
the spot. If they fail to raise the requisite sum we can 
then give what is necessary. Now, there is an urgent 
appeal for funds being made just now to the public by 
the Lifeboat Institution. I think this a good opportunity 
to give away some of the cash which ought to have 
been — ” 

Guy hesitated. He too was about to make a remark 
that would have been unfavorable to the character of 
his late uncle ; so he checked himself. 

“ What do you say to giving them a thousand pounds ? ” 

Mr. Crumps said nothing to it. He was too much 
taken aback to say anything ; but when he saw that Guy 
had jotted the sum down, and was apparently in earnest, 
he nodded liis head, blew his nose violently, for a man 
of his years and character, and chuckled. 

“Well, then,” continued Guy, “ there is another sub- 
ject which occurs to me just now, although it does not 
come under the head of charities. I wish to supply a 
ship’s lifeboat to every vessel that belongs to us, and a 
set of life-belts, besides other things. I estimate that 
this will require a sum of nearly two thousand pounds. 
Let me see — ” 

Here Guy began to jot and calculate, and talk to him- 
self in an undertone, while Mr. Crumps, utterly bereft 
of speech, sat staring in amazement and delight at his 
young partner. 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


31? 


While they were thus engaged, the tiger in blue who 
had supplanted Peekins entered, and said that three 
gentlemen wished to see Mr. Foster. 

“ Show them in,” said Guy. “ Sit still, Mr. Crumps ; 
I have not yet done with my calculations.” 

In a few seconds, Bax, Bluenose, and Tommy Bogey 
were ushered into the office. The latter had become a 
tall, handsome stripling during his residence abroad, and 
bade fair to rival Bax himself in stature. They shook 
hands cordially with Guy and Mr. Crumps. 

“ Well, Bax, is the new ship a good one? ” said Guy ; 
“ d’you think she will suit you ? ” 

“ That will she,” said Bax, with a gratified look. “ As 
the old song says, — 

* She’s a ship that’s as tight to my fancy 
As ever sailed o’er the salt seas.’ 

I think she will be ready for sea in a couple of months. 
By that time I will be ready to take command, if you 
choose to trust her to me.” 

“ Trust her to you, Bax ! Do you think we may trust 
our new vessel to him, Mr. Crumps ? ” inquired Guy, with 
a smile. 

Mr. Crumps, not having recovered the power of speech, 
nodded his head, and rubbed his hands slowly, a benig- 
nant smile playing on his old face the while. 

“ Well, then,” continued Bax, “ Amy, so far from 
making any objection to going to sea with me, says that 
won’t let me go away without her ; so that’s settled, 
the wedding day is fixed for Monday, next week. 
M I’m not satisfied yet. I want you to do me still 
ai ‘her favor, Guy.” 
ot rSoT ijZ'v 27 * 


318 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


“ What is that? ” 

“ To let Tommy Bogey go as supercargo. He’s sea- 
man enough to go as first mate, but he’s too young for 
that yet. Also, I want to take Bluenose as a free pas- 
senger.” 

“ A free passenger ! ” said Guy, looking at the captain 
•with surprise. 

“ Yes, you see,” said Bluenose, modestly, “ I’m raither 
molonclioly about old Jeph, an’ if Bax and Tommy leave 
me, I’ll feel quite desarted like. Moreover, I wants to 
see furrin’ parts — ’specially the anty-podes — though 
why they’re called anty and not uncle-podes is more than 
I can tell. But I hain’t blunt enough to pay my passage, 
d’ye see, and so — and so — ” 

“ In short,” interpolated Tommy, “ he’s blunt enough 
to ask a free one ! ” 

“ A 1 on Lloyds’ ! ” said Bluenose, looking at Tommy 
with a broad grin ; for the captain regarded all his 
nephew’s jokes — good, bad, and indifferent — as being 
perfect ! 

It need scarcely be said that Guy readily agreed to 
their request, and that Mr. Crumps was ready to agree 
to whatsoever Guy proposed. 

These matters being happily settled, the trio, having 
been invited to dine with Guy at a neighboring chop- 
house at five o’clock, rose and left the partners to continue 
their consultation. 

From that time forward, Bax and Tommy Bogey re- 
mained in the service of Denham, Crumps, & Co., and 
Amy Russel went regularly to sea with her husband. 
Bluenose was afterwards appointed cockswain to a life- 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


319 


boat on tlie coast of Kent, where he rendered good service 
in many a wild storm, and was the means of snatching 
many a fellow-creature from the devouring sea. His 
friend Coleman happened to be on the coast-guard station 
near him ; and many a. pipe did these two smoke together, 
under the lee_of the boat-house — ^ spinning yarns of other 
days,- chiefly connected with the sea and shipwrecks. 
Old Coleman had had considerable experience in rough, 
coast life, and was well able to speak on such subjects. 
The records of the Lifeboat Institution show that about 
one third of the medals and rewards granted for merito- 
rious services are awarded to men of the-coast-guard. 
Old Coleman was one of those who had taken his full 
share of the dangerous work of saving life. He was 
also gifted with that rare quality — the power of telling 
a story well ; so that he and Bluenose became fast friends 
and constant companions during their residence on the 
Kentish coast. 

Similarity of tastes and desires drew other members 
of our tale together, besides Colemau and Bluenose. Old 
Mr. Summers and Mr. Clelland, the dark passenger in 
the “ Trident,” found such a strong bond of sympathy 
existing between them, that they took cottages in juxta- 
position in the town of Deal, and went about continually 
“ doing good.” Mrs. Foster, Lucy, and Guy were 
allies, as a matter of course. Rodney Nick improved 
somewhat in his character, and became a respectable 
boatman. People said that Mr. Burton, the missionary to 
seamen, had something to do with this improvement. It 
is not improbable that he had. But Long Orrick died as 
he had lived — c.a notorious and incorrigible smuggler. 

Peekins was changed from a tiger into a clerk, and, 


320 


THE LIFEBOAT. 


in process of time, came to keep the books of that cele- 
brated firm in which he had originally figured as a spider 
in blue tights and buttons. 

Bax and Tommy sailed together for several years. 
They also engaged in mercantile ventures to China on 
their own account, and were so prosperous in their career 
that they realized ample fortunes, and finally settled near 
each other on the coast of Kent. 

Here they resumed their old career of saving human 
life. They became noted as men who were ready to 
devise, and prompt to act in cases of emergency. They 
helped to man the lifeboat in their neighborhood when 
occasion required. They were the means of establishing 
a library and a mission to seamen, and were regarded as 
a blessing to the district in which they dwelt. 

They were literally heroes of the coast, for they spent 
their time in doing good to those whose lot it is to brave 
the dangers of the deep, and sweep the stormy sea. 


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